Skip to main content

Full text of "Robbery under law:"

See other formats

.V ^>. 

. V ■'^ X^ 

v^^ "^^^ 



•C'^^-^'^^-^ ' 

^ ^ r-^ .C .cO 


^^, S 

*^ g 1 \ 



^/ '^""^^J^^.* , 


A . V 1 8 . -^^ 

V " ^ * <* ^ > 


-^■^■^ .SJ> 


. ' '^^ <* 

;/: x°°- 


^A%, ■^ ^J- C 




;.# -t 

.^^- ■'■■^.. 


\- ' 

7 /^' 1^3^/ '^%V 

o 0^ 

<^- *onO^ \^^ 

'^^ .^^^^ 


-v>' »^- 

: -'-^,^^'" * 


^^^'^ .. 

• 0^ 


A>' /-v 


y -^ 


.^^ ''^>. 

.^:^ -n^. 


: ^S^ 

V ,x^ 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 

DIV,.:^^: DOCKIJ^^PJ^-Z 


iyiAY3l 1932 



See Note to Frontispiece, page 185. 


Robbery Under Law 


The Battle of the Millionaires 


In Three Acts and Three Scenes 
TIME, 1887 




John Armstrong Chaloner 



"We're always hearing al>out poor girls who go wrong, and sell them- 
selves to the Bevil, and te^npt men into sin. If you believe what some folks 
say, you'd think it was only the six-dollar-a-week factory girl that filled 
the joints, and wrecked the homes, and lured av)ay 7n others' darlings. As a 
matter of fact, some of the most dangerous women, some of the most un- 
principled sirens, are to be found among the daughters of the rich; women 
who will lie for money, steal for money, wear the scarlet letter for money — 
murder for money." — William Sunday. 


Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina 
Nineteen Hundred and Fourteen. 




PAiadETTo Press 

'CI. A 4 (1 173 5 

JUL 10 1315 



Since finishing the phi 3^ : "Robbery Under Law," last FalL 
the undersigned has written another play found herewith, 
entitled: "The Hazard Of The Die," a three act play in 
blank verse treating of the conspiracy of Catiline during the 
last days of the Roman Republic. 

A word of explanation is germane to the matter in hand. 
Upon finishing "Robbery Under Law," this last Fall, the 
writer sent it to a friend — a lady — upon a large New York 
daily paper. She in turn sent it to another lady — a friend 
of hers — with the request that she bring the play to the at- 
tention of her friend's — a large Xew York theatrical man- 
ager's — play-reader. The letter below is an exact transcript of 
the letter of the undersigned to lady number two. 

In closing this introduction to an introduction — so to 
speak— it might be observed that the length of the first pky — 
a thing which can be remedied by a blue pencil and judicious 
and experienced cutting, without in the least interfering with 
the action of the drama — the length has been retained — even 
added to — since the letter below was written — in order to serve 
OS a sort of propaganda tovards the cause of Lunacy Law re- 
form^ to which the icriter has sacrificed the past eighteen 
years of his life — com.€ March 13, 1915. All the characters — 
with the exception of the heroine's — which is entirely an im- 
aginary^ one — ha^^ng been photographed actually — so to speak 
— from life; and all the actions of all the characters — bar the 
heroine's — having been practically copies from court records 
as is indicated in the subjoined letter. To that end the writer 
has left his comments unpruned, upon the abominable laws, 
and the even more abominable administration of said laws, by 
the New York Courts, both State and Federal, set forth in 
"Robbery Under Law."t 

fThe object being to put before the papers the deadly disease 
eating the fibre of our body-politic in vicious iL/unacy Legislation 
obtaining in 40 per cent, of the States of the United States; as 
"Damaged Goods" put before the papers and public the deadly 
disease eating the flesh of alas! but too many of the peoples of 
the earth. 

P Pw L G 

Charles Eeade's brilliant and powerful novel: **Very 
Hard Cash." of some fifty or more years ago. revolutionized 
the treatment of prisoners behind the bars of English Insane 
Asylimis. It is far too much to expect the same result from 
"Eobbery Under Law." but — for what it is worth as a photo- 
graphic exposition of cold. hard, every-day facts, in our al- 
legedly hiunane. and civilized, and upright community of 
the United States — it is hereby launched upon the perilous 
seas of literature. 

"The Merry Mills." 


Albemarle County. 


December '21. 1914. 

Cobham. Va.. and 
of the *Xew York 

Eichmond. Virginia. 
October 24. 1914. 

Miss . 

Xew York. X. Y. 
My dear Miss . 

My letter from "The Meny Mills.* 

yours with the play — to !Miss . 

* (naming that lady's newspaper), which she for- 
warded with the play to Virginia, crossed. My letter in- 
formed you that I had decided upon publishing the play in 
book form, before producing same. Yours informed me — 
through Miss . of its rejection by your play-reader. 

"For this relief much thanks" — as Hamlet observes. 
Xothing could be more timely, a pj'opos. or pleasant to me 
than said rejection. The reason being, that the reasons for 
same given by the reader are so amusing — when viewed in 
connection with the stubborn facts in the premises — that the 
rejection becomes a literaiw asset of the first water to me: 
and shall be printed — sinking — of course, out of courtesy to 
Miss and yourself — the name of the managers in- 

You see it's this way. Practically all the characters, and 
all the scenes, in the play, are from life. 


This being so, the words of your reader: "far-fetched 
and sensational in plot"' become highly interesting. The 
first Act is taken hodily — characters and action from life. 

This is the Act in which the shooting and death of one 
of the characters occurs. 

The proof of my statement is that said Act is merely the 
gist of my deposition on the witness stand in the case of 
Chaloner against the New York '''•Evening Post^^- for $100,000 
damages for libel in printing that I killed John Gillard, the 
English wife-beater — after the coroner's jury had found that 
he met his death by a pistol in the hands of Gillard and 
Chaloner, while Chaloner was, in good faith, trying to pre- 
vent Gillard from shooting his — Gillard's — wife. 

So much for the "far fetched and sensational plot*' of 
Act I. 

Act II is a thinly disguised statement of cold, hard 
facts — bar only the love-motive, which is entirely imaginary. 
Scene I, of Act III, is almost verhatinn and actually from 
life! Scene II, Act III, is fractically so. Scene III, Act 
III, is largely so. The only main differences being that 
the fight with the "Bloomingdale" keeper took place in 
my cell at "Bloomingdale," instead of in the wood at 
"Bloomingdale": and, also, that I escaped from "Blooming- 
dale" by flight unaided by support from outside that insti- 
tution — outside the Insane Asylum — as in the play. 

Lord Byron wrote: "Truth is stranger than fiction." 

Messrs. 's play-reader surely endorses that re- 
mark of his experienced and brilliant lordship. 

The play-reader continues: "This so-called play is 
lengthy and diffuse." On the edge of the manuscript I 
was at pains to write at the middle of Act II: "This should 
be cut about two- thirds from here on." And in the same 
place in Act III, I wrote: "This should be cut about three- 
quarters from here on." So you see your play-reader and I 
are in accord about it's being "diffuse in dialogue." 
I did not cut for the solitary reason that I am not 
experienced in catering to public taste — as is a manager — and 
therefore he would be in a far stronger position than would 
T. I merely exposed my Psychological wares for him to se- 


lect from — the public at last beginning to take a keen in- 
terest in that mysterious department of science. The amounts 
I named could have been cut from the play without the least 
injury to the action, though not to the Ps^^chological value of 
it as a study in the very latest and farthest advanced realms 
of Mediumship. Since that is what I am — a Medium — in the 
language of the late Professor William James, of Harvard — 
of whom you have doubtless heard. 

In my sensational trial at Charlottesville, Virginia, No- 
vember 6, 1901, his opinion declaring me sane and also a 
Medium, largely helped to win me the recovery of my good 
name from the stigma cast upon it by the perjured arrest 
and incarceration of myself in ''Bloomingdale" as a maniac, 
by my avaricious and unnatural brothers and sisters, who 
lusted after my million and a half of real estate on Manhat- 
tan Island — though each was a millionaire in his or her own 
right. Professor James' words were: ''Mr. Chaloner is of a 
strongly 'mediumistic' or 'psychic* temperament."* I am no 
spiritualist. Far from it. I denounce spiritualism as a fake; and 
charge all my interesting Psychological phenomena — such as 
trances and trance-like states — to Psychology and nothing 
else. Hence the '"'so-called flaif^ deals icith the most ad- 
vanced outposts of the great suhject of Psychology. 

This being the fact, the statement of your reader : "there 
is nothing in the story that is worth considering,'' becomes 
highly interesting. Which interest is accentuated by the 
following closing and crowning climax of criticism upon the 
part of your reader : ''Hhe behaviour of all the characters being 
highly unconvincing under all circumstances.'''' Might I be 
permitted to add — "m particular that of the late John Gil- 
lard^ deceased:'' 

So much the roof and crown of things is this last gem 
of your reader, that I cannot and will not resist the temp- 
tation to appropriate this "Eajah's Ruby" of critical insight, 
culture, and artistic and dramatic penetration and experience, 
as follows: I have — some two or three days ago — completed a 
very brief Prologue: and had sent it — with the duplicate 
manuscript I had of the play — to the publishers who are 
bringing out: "Robber}^ Under Law" in book form. I had 


feared that the Prologue was too brief. Therefore it is with 
pleasure that I add to it the admirably succinct, and yet com- 
prehensive, synopsis of "R. U. L.", rendered by your reader 
at the top of the report thereon, together with his verbatim 
entire hostile critique thereof, followed by my reply thereto, 
in the shape of this letter to you, with, of course, your name 
sunk; by way of comment and explanation to the critics who 
will have "Robbery Under Law" before them in book form 
before long. In this icay I shall find out if Truth is so much 
stranger than Fiction that it cannot and shall not compete 
with Fiction m things theatrical. 

Thanking you for your courtesy in the premises, believe 
me. Very sincerely yours, 


P. S. — You will pardon the length of this letter when 
you consider that it is my new Prologue — and unless I write 
it to you I can't truthfully say that I did — as I shall — in the 

J. A. C. 

Author's address 

Read September 30th, 1914. (C. E. W.) 
"Robbery Under Law"; 

or "The Battle of The Millionaires." 
Play in Three Acts. 

This requires three scenes and sixteen characters. 

Hugh Stutfield, of Virginia and New York, a millionaire Art 
Patron and Writer on Law, has an enemy in James Lawless, also a 
millionaire, who conspires with his relatives to get him out of the 

Hugh and Lawless are rivals for the hand of Viola Cariston, and 
fearing that he has little chance of winning her from the Virginian, 
Lawless determines to resort to any m^eans rather than lose her. 

Constantia and Winston Blettermole, cousins of Hugh's, are bit- 
terly jealous of him, and as they are the next heirs to his millions 
if he does not marry, they listen readily to the criminal suggestions 
of Lawless and his lawyer, Spink. Although Hugh has a certain clair- 
voyant sense which warns him of trouble, they manage to have him 
shut up in an Asylum as a dangerous lunatic. From this place he 
eventally makes his escape and by wit and courage gets the better of 
his persecutors. 

This so-called play is a lengthy and far-fetched narrative, very 
sensational in plot and diffuse in dialogue. 

The speeches are almost all pages in length and the authors are 
apparently quite ignorant of the form in which plays are written. 

There is nothing in the story which is worth considering — the 
behavior of all the characters being highly unconvincing under all 


It is but fair to state that lady number two's play-reader 
had not the remotest idea as to the identity of the author of 
''Robbery Under Law.'* For he says in his critique, "the 
authors are." 

Finally he is presumably unfamiliar with the stirring 
cycle of events which — for the past eighteen years — has 
been whirling around the head of "Who's Looney Now?" 
A Play in Three Acts and Three Scenes. 



Chorus loquitur. 


Thou think'st perchance Romance is dead and gone 

That Science cold hath laid her fiery ghost 

But glance within and thou 'It be told not one 

But deeds of derring-do a serried host. 

The Poetr}^ of Business herein gleams — 

The sparkling projects of her darkling womb — 

And Death doth shed her shimmering moonbeam gleams 

Athwart the ghostly portal of the Tomb. 

Love lifts her radiant head and waves her hand; 

Whereat fell Rivalry doth draw his knife — 

Psychology then in the game takes hand^ 

And san^'es the hero in his hour of strife! 

In short we show that Mysteiy to-day 

Is as mysterious as she's been for aye. 



The Battle of the Millionaires 

A Play in Three Acts and Three Scenes. 

Dramatis Personam. 

Hugh Stutfield of "Rokeby,'' Albemarle County, Virginia, 
and New York. Millionaire Art Patron and Law 
Writer. 30 years old. In love with Viola. 

James Lawless, of New York. Millionaire man- about- town. 
30 years old. Rival of Stutfield, and his enemy. 
Rejected suitor of Viola. 

Winston Blettermole, of New York, millionaire. Cousin 
and heir-at-law of Stutfield, and his bitter enemy. 
30 years old. 

Bei.isarius p. Spink, of the New York County Bar. Family 
lawyer of both Lawless and Blettermole. Learned 
but unscrupulous practitioner. Hatches the plot to 
have Stutfield basely declared insane to rid Lawless 
of a rival in love, and enable Blettermole to obtain 
control of his five million dollar estate. Known to 
his intimates as "B. P.," since he frowns upon the 
juxtaposition of such names as "Belisarius'- and 
"Spink." 50 years old, but wonderfully preserved. 

Captain Cariston, "F. F. V." and ex-Confederate Cavalry 
Officer under Stuart in the army of Northern Vir- 
ginia. Since the war exiled himself to the coal fields 


of West Virginia for twenty years, and as a result is 
now worth half a million. Father of Viola, his only 
child. About 50 3^ears old. 

Albert Wedge. Inventor. In employ of Stutfield, about 30 
years old. 

JoHx BuLLARD. English machinist, 32 years old. 

/ Xew York alienists. Employed by Lawless 

-p^ -p> I and Blettermole to visit Stutfield in Xew York 

j^ ' ^^ ^^ / under false pretenses, garble his statements 

/ and falsely testify as to his insanity. Fifty- 

' five and fifty-eight, respectively. 

"Bosco."' Stutfield's negro body-servant. 

"Wash." Negro butler at "Elsinore." the three thousand 
acre plantation of Captain Cariston in Albemarle 

Pat Sligo. Keeper at "Fairdale" Insane Asylum. In 
charge of Stutfield. 25 years old. 

Viola Caristox. Daughter of Captain Cariston. of "Elsi- 
nore." In love with Stutfield. 25 years old. 

Constaxtia Blettermole. Wife of Winston Blettermole. 
Viola's best friend. 28 years old. 

Mrs. Bullard. Wife of John Bullard. 30 years old. 

MoNA Bullard. Eight year old daughter of Mrs. Bullard. 

Time, 1887. 

tAlfas Rumdumbagore, a falsely alleged Parsee fire-worshipper 
from Bombay. 



The Hand of Destiny. 

The Dining Koom at "Kokeby," Albemarle County, Vir- 
ginia, Stutfield's 400 acre estate. Three P. M., March 15th. 



Weaving tpte Plot. 

The Drawing Room at "Elsinore," Captain Cariston's 
3,000 acre plantation. Five miles from "Eokeby." Four 
P. M., March 18th, 1887. 



In The Shadow Or The Labyrinth. 

Stutfield's bedroom in his suite at the Hotel Kensington, 
15th Street and 5th Avenue. Six-thirty P. M., April 12th, 


The Labyrinth. 

Stutfield's cell in "Fairdale" Insane Asylum. Time: 
Afternoon, three months later. 


The Rescue. 

The wood at "Fairdale" Insane Asylum. Time: After- 
noon. Three weeks later. 



Act I. Dining Room at ••Eokebv," Albemarle County, Vir- 

(Stutfield. alone, dressed in riding costume — cut-away- 
coat, breeches and gaiters — sitting at table in centre of stage. 
Stutfleld is a man five feet ten and tki'ee-quarter inches high, of 
athletic build and weighs a hundred and fiity-four. His fea- 
tures are strong and regular. Eyes dark grey, hair thick and 
curly and such dark brown as to appear black. He is clean 
shaved. He smiles as readily as he frowns. Luncheon over. 
except fruit. "Bosco." a powerful negro servant, enters and 
hands Stutfield a letter, on a silver salver). 

"Bcsco*": "From [Miss Cariston. Sir. The groom brought 
it and left." 

(Servant retires. Stutfield opens letter, and reads.) 

Stutfield. { Reading ^) 


March thirteenth. 1887. 
"Dearest Hugh: 

This is the twelfth letter I have ever, ever written you. 
my dear, and yet I am in the same state of imcertainty as re- 
gards accepting you as I was when I sat down to write the 
first. Why is this? Why can't I make up my mind? You 
satisfy my mental concept of a man. you satisfy my moral 
concept, and my physical. You are blue-blooded. You are 
rich. You are in the prime of life. You are a cosmopoli- 
tan — a Londoner, a Parisian, and a Xew Yorker, as much as 
you are a Virginian bom. if not raised in the dear old State. 
Why cannot I say. 'Come to me. and take me.* You who are 
a metaphysician and a philosopher will probably say because 
I do not know my own mind. But my dear, dear friend, the 
tabulating of — I shan't say all and simdry. but certainly — 
several of your attractive qualities in this letter, gainsays 
that hypothesis, does it not. Hugh? I do wish I could screw 
myself up to the sticking-place and say. 'Come.' But I can- 
not. I feel. Hugh, darling, that I am doing you a great 
wrong in keeping you hanging in the offing like this — that I 


am keeping some nobler woman than myself away from you. 
away from your charm, aw^ay from your manliness, away 
from your high ideality and true Christian manhood. You 
see, dear, I do know you pretty well for having known you 
for so short a while — barely three months — after all, do I 
not, darling? But try as I may, I simply cannot bring my- 
self to say 'Yes.' When I first saw you at that ball in New 
York last January — the 'Patriarchs' — I had a feeling that 
you were my mate. That may sound strangely but you know 
I am a strange creature. That may sound unmaidenly — ^but, 
my darling, j^ou know, at all events, I am not that. Yes, 
Hugh, I felt that you were my mate, my man, my defender, 
and champion against 'the thorns and crosses of the world' 
as our Shakspeare says. You don't know how my heart went 
out to you — how it beat under my corsage — you see, dear, I 
am frank — I do not conceal your attraction for me — and yet — 
and yet — . But there — I know my vacillation irritates you, 
dear, so I shall stop, with a prayer for guidance to that God 
Whom we both so firmly believe in, and trust. 

Your friend, 

Viola Cariston." 

(Upon reading letter Stutfield says:) "What wouldn't I 
give to be able to win that girl!" 

(Leans head on hand, elbow on table and gazes into fire 
at right. After a moment) : 

"I'd give anything — anything — anything an honorable 
man could — to win her." (Pause) "A girl like that needs 
the imagination touched — needs something that appeals to 
the imagination — to turn the trick. And what in G — d's 
name can appeal to a young girl's imagination in these drab- 
colored, hum-drum piping days of peace! Nothing!" (A 
pause. Sighs.) "Well, there's nothing to do for it but wait- 
waiting in a case like the present doesn't spoil anything, 
doesn't endanger anything — 'Patience and shuffle the cards — 
patience and shuffle the cards' — (The negro, Bosco,. enters 
and says:) 

"Miss Cariston, Sir, and a strange lady is outside — in 
Miss Cariston's runabout — and Miss Cariston want to know^ 
if yo' can see her and the lady for a few minutes." 


Stutfield: ^'Jliss Carist07i/" 

Bosco: "Yes, Suh." 

Stutfield: '•Certainly, 111 go out at once." 

(Enter Viola and Mrs. Bullard, and an eight-year-old 
daughter. Viola Cariston is five feet eight inches in height, 
of full but graceful figure. Has dazzling ^hite skin with 
two patches of colour in her cheeks. Her eyes are a red- 
brown, so dark as to appear almost black. Her hair which is 
very abundant and naturally wa^-y is a dark copper colour — 
almost black. She has a face of wining sweetness, shadowed 
by a seriousness — a gravity — which makes her smile a rare 

Mrs. Bullard is an attractive, well mannered, lower-mid- 
dle class woman, modestly, but tastefully dressed. 

Mona is a child of unusual attractiveness and refinement: 
dressed with extreme care by her mother.) 

Viola : "I came in uninvited, Hugh — as you see — but the 
matter is marked 'Urgent' and ceremony must go to the wall. 
Permit me to make you known to Mrs. John Bullard, late 
of England. I come in the role of a damsel-errant, succour- 
ing distressed womanhood — nothing else, you may well im- 
agine, could have induced me to invade the bachelor quarters 
of Mr. Hugh Stutfield, of 'Eokeby' and New York." 

(Stutfield, who has risen and crossed the stage to door 
at left by which they entered — only door in the room — bows 
politely but coldly to Mrs. Bullard, who returns the salute 

Stutfield: "One moment. Miss Cariston — permit me. 
Bosco. clear the table. Then tell Miss Cariston's groom to 
take the horse to the stable — but not unharness — on account 
of the cold." (Bosco bows, and with great alacrity, skill and 
noiselessness places the plate and fruit-dish upon a tray — no 
cloth on the table, which is mahogany — with fruit knife and 
glass, and the table is cleared. He then disappears). 

Stutfield: "Won't you ladies and the little girl please 
seat yourselves before the fire and warm?" (Bringing up 
two chairs. The little girl on the way to mount her mother's 
lap spys an old Xile green velvet. Rugby School. England, 
football cap of Stutfield's. on the table, and exclaims) : 

Mona: "My, what a pretty cap!" 


Stutfield: "Yes, young lady, rather Oriental, is it not? 
That (holding it up) Miss Cariston, is a souvenir of my hard- 
fought battles on the football field at Rugby — Tom Brown's 
Rugby — where I was full back for my team. I wear it only 
about the house and only in winter — and only in going 
through the halls — because as you may have noticed — 
though hot Avater is laid on here I never use anything but the 
open wood fires, and therefore the hall- ways are cold. (Leav- 
ing the cap in the child's hands). 

Viola: "Mr. Stutfield, this lady met me as I was driv- 
ing home from a Ladies' Auxiliary meeting at Grace church. 
She was on foot, accompanied by her little girl. She stopped 
me and asked if I knew the way to Mr. Hugh Stutfield's. I 
replied that I did. She then asked me if I would mind driv- 
ing her there, as she had business of importance which would 
not brook delay. I willingly consented. As soon as she was 
seated she said that she would like to speak to me privately. 
I thereupon told Griffith — the boy — to get down and walk 
ahead of the horse — " 

Stutfield: "Pardon my interruption, but I shall give 
myself the pleasure of saying a general ever! You made 
Master' Griffith walk ahead of the horse. There's where your 
generalship which you will bear me out I've always insisted 
on, you inherited from your warlike sire — there's where your 
generalship came in, and made its rare presence felt^ — ninety 
women out of a hundred — and ninety men even — would have 
allowed Master Griffith to walk behind and overhear you, or 
anywhere he pleased, so long as he did walk." 

Viola : ^''Merci. But no more interruptions, if you 
please — particularly upon such exceedingly trifling provoca- 
tion — the matter in hand, Mr. Stutfield, is of the very gravest 
possible importance." 

(Stutfield, who has at first smiled and bowed, now looks 
grave and says) : 

Stutfield: "A thousand pardons — I shall not offend 

Viola: "Mrs. Bullard then told me one of the most 
heart-rending stories I have ever heard, of marital unhappi- 
ness. I should preface my remarks by saying that I have 
known of her and her husband and little girl ever since they 


zifrTiniiT strms ^: zasi w^iker — 

raied. Ifas. lUhid-Ob!! 
^ rC lams wiiw^ mmd tar 

for 9o 


T is said to bp m 
lue ben able to ^ an t^ 

:-fli. and scaicebr safiriTi: 
Mr^ BdDaid aars ber 


man — and he is known to be very industrious. At this point, 
Mrs. Bullard can best take up the tale." 

Mrs. BuUard: "Well, sir, my husband is a wife-beater 
of the very worst description. Last night he beat me over 
the shoulders and back with a poker — gave me about a dozen 
very severe blows with a small iron poker — he generally uses a 
poker because anything less strong than iron would break 
under the force of his blows. He is always very careful not 
to strike me about the head or face, where the marks could be 
seen. He always hits me where the marks will not be seen. 
He has been beating me off and on now for a year or more. 
I have left him twice and gone to my relatives who are well 
to do. Each time I forgave him and returned. I shall do so 
no more. He will kill me one of these days if I don't leave 
him. Last night he beat me dreadfully, and for no cause. 
It isn't as though I didn't make him a good and faithful 
wife, or didn't make him comfortable at home — didn't cook 
his meals properly, and have everything neat and tidy about 
the home. For I do all these things — " 

Viola: "Excuse me, Mrs. Bullard, but why on earth 
does he beat you?" 

Mrs. Bullard : "To vent his spite, Miss — to ease his feel- 
ings. He has awful ugly moods sometimes when he's sullen 
and won't speak a word. He's not a great talker anyway, 
but when he gets into one of those moods, he won't say a 
word — it's just a look and a blow — just a look and a blow — 
and once he's begun he seems to get more and more fond of it, 
and so gives me a dozen or more blows. It's the same with 
little Mona here." (Pointing to the child on her lap). "He'll 
strike her as quick as me in one of those moods — but he never 
takes anything to her as he does to me — never uses a poker or 
a pair of tongs as he does with me — he seems to realize that 
it might kill her. He never drinks nor has anything to do 
with other women — or other men, for that matter. He's 
hard working but he doesn't care the snap of his finger for 
me, nor for Mona here. He's never kissed the child since she 
was born. He's a cruel man — cruel to animals. He beat our 
cow so with a poker one day that one of the neighbors said 
she'd have him arrested if he did that again. I don't want 
you to think. Miss, that I'm runninor him down — for he has 


some good points. He's a good husband except in two 
points — he doesn't love me, and he likes to beat me — saving 
those two things he's as correct and proper a man as one 
could find — hard working and honest." 

Stutfield: "Is he perfectly right in his mind?" 

Mrs. BuUard: "Perfectly, sir, — no man with a harder 
head on his shoulders, or a harder heart below his shoulders, 
was ever born in England. We lived in Liverpool. He is a 
railway engineer, and good at any skilled work, most. We 
came to this country a few months ago to better ourselves — 
he's not saving. I don't know what he does with the money, 
he never smokes, drinks, nor gambles, but he never has any 
laid aside. He first went to work in the Locomotive Works 
in Richmond, and gave first-rate satisfaction — but they laid 
off about fifty or a hundred hands a few weeks ago and he 
was among them. Miss Cariston has told you the rest. Xow, 
what I want, sir, is this. I'm told you are a lawyer and a 
very kind-hearted gentleman — the friend of the poor and af- 
flicted. Now, I came over here for protection from my hus- 
band, and to find out from you if I can get a divorce from 
him in this country for wife-beating. I'm perfectly willing 
to stay, with my little girl, at one of your married white 
farmer's, and do anything in the way of sewing — ^I used to 
support myself with my needle in the old country before I 
was married — " 

Stutfield: "Pardon me, how long have you been mar- 

Mrs. Bullard: "Ten years. Mona is eight years old. I 
am willing to do anything in the way of sewing you may 
wish; by way of return for my board and lodging. Of course, 
if you get a divorce for me I cannot repay you — for I haven't 
a dollar on earth. I had a little property when he married 
me — one thousand pounds — five thousand dollars of your 
money — that's why he married me — but he squandered it all — 
made me — compelled me — to turn it over to him and then 
squandered it — " 

Stutfield: "You are completely under his thumb — par- 
don my bluntness. Mrs. Bullard — you are dominated and over- 
mastered by your husband, are you not? Besides being physi- 
cally afraid of him — frankly in terror of your life." 


Mrs. Billiard: "Yes, sir." 

Stutfield: "You are of a somewhat weak and yieldin"? 
disposition, are you not. Madam? Somewhat 'peace at any 
price, — even at that of a beating — are you not? Pardon my 
professional frankness, but if I am to have anything to do 
with your case there must be no mincing of words between 

Mrs. Bullard: "Yes, sir. I suppose I am. I dislike a 
row worse than anything in the world." 

Stutfield: "Even worse than a beating?" 
Mrs. Bullard: "I used to, but I do so no longer. Last 
night's beating finished it for me. I'd rather risk death — 
rather risk death itself than see him come at me with iron 
in his hands again — " 

Mona : "O ! sir, father beat mother dreadful last night. 
It was as she was undressing and her back was all black and 
blue and bloody after it." 

Viola : "You poor child ! I declare, it's an outrageous 
shame ! What a monster that man must be. Mr. Stutfield, 
I do hope you can protect this poor woman and free her 
from her awful bonds — it would be a really charitable, Chris- 
tian act, of the first magnitude." 

Stutfield: "I promise you to do both, provided the Vir- 
ginia law gives cruelty as a ground for divorce. If you will 
permit me, I'll go into the library and consult my authori- 
ties. I shall not be gone long, and shall always be within 
call. You know I am not a member of the Virginia bar, but 
of the bar of New York, and am therefore not familiar with 
the law here. 

Viola : "You are excused, Mr. Stutfield." 
Mona : "Oh ! What a nice, kind gentleman." 
Mrs. Bullard: "Hush, my child, he may hear you." 
Mona: "Suppose he does. Mother, what 's the harm?" 
Mrs. Bullard: "He would think you, perhaps, a pert 
little girl." 

!Mona: "I don't think he would Mother — he don't look 
that way." 

Viola : "You are right, my child, he wouldn't misunder- 
stand — ^but I don't want you to think that I am finding fault 
with vour mamma." 

12 R 3 B E R Y U X D E Pw L A W 

Mona : "Oh! Xo. [Miss. I couldn't think that, for my 
Mamma is a loTelv Mamma — so kind and sweet to me — I only 
wish my Papa was — I hite Papa" (stamping her foot — she 
had meantime got down from her mother's lap and was stand- 
ing between the two women). 

Mrs. Bullard : "Shi Shi Mona. you must not use such 
language about your Father. I had to tell the gentleman all 
about it. or he wouldn't know what to do. but that's no ex- 
cuse for you to act like a ba'dly brought up little girl — ** 

(Enter Stutfield) 

Smtfield: "It's all right. I'm glad to say — Virginia 's 
all right. Cruelty is ground for divorce — in this grand old 

Viola : "Oh I I'm >:o relieved." 

Mrs. Bullard: "Thank (^^r/.i."' 

Stutfield: "Xow. [Mrs. Bullard, this is what I am pre- 
pared to do. I'll put ycu up free of charge with my head 
farmer, who has a wife and a little girl just your age. young 
lady." i turning and smiling and waving his hand to Mona L 
'Tt will put some roses in your pretty cheeks to get some of 
the eggs and buttermilk off of this four hundred acre dairy 
farm — " 

Mona: "I ^-0\'^: buttermilk."^ 

Stutfield: ••Y':u shall have enough of it to swim in if 
you like, my child. To resume. Mrs. Bullard. 1*11 turn your 
case over to be charged to my accoimt. to my own lawyer in 
Charlottesville — fourteen miles from here — the coimty seat — 
the home of Jefferson. Fancy wife-beating taking place 
within a few miles of Monticello. Miss Cariston I" 

Viola: "It's infamous T' 

Stutfield: "I'll of course, charge you nothing for it. 
Furthermore, this is confidential, ladies — as I do not — I am a 
member of the Xew York bar — though of Virginia origin — 
carry my heart on my sleeve, hence my caution. I put in 
practice my religion. 'Bear ye one another's burdens.' hence 
my proposition to act as if it were / who wanted the divorce — 
^liss Cariston — as though it were / that wanted the divorce — 
Miss Cariston — " 

Viola : "I heard you quite distinctly the first time you 
made the observation, Mr. Stutfield." 


Stutfield: "Thank you, Miss Cariston. To resume, 1 
shall, furthermore, Mrs. Bullard, pay your return passage to 
Liverpool, first class, on a safe and comfortable line, running 
every two weeks from Norfolk, and give you enough money 
besides to make you comfortable from now until you land in 
Liverpool, and leave you some over." 

Mrs. Bullard: "I am sure the Lord will bless you for 
all your goodness to a helpless woman and her little girl in 
a strange land — " 

Stutfield: "I devoutly hope He will. And now, ladies, 
please make yourselves at home while I give a few orders." 
(Exit. Picking up the cap and holding it in his hand as he 
exits) . 

Mrs. Bullard : "I am sure. Miss, I cannot ever thank you 
sufficiently for bringing me to this kind gentleman. The Lord 
surely has raised up a helper for us in the hour of need." 

Viola: "He surely has, Mrs. Bullard; and Mr. Stut- 
field will carry out to the precise letter everything he has 

(At this moment the door opens softly and John Bullard 
glides into the room. There is a seven-foot Japanese screen 
ten feet long, running alongside the whole length of the table, 
completely shutting off the door, and several feet of the room 
on either side. The door is in the middle of the room. Bul- 
lard is a powerfully built man, of medium height, with sandy 
hair, a sweeping military moustache of the same color and 
light blue eyes, dressed plainly, but neatly, in blue serge 
clothes — a sack suit — with heavy brogans, such as working- 
men wear, on his feet. His linen is clean, and his necktie 
neatly tied in a small bow. The door is to the left, directly 
opposite the fire-place, before which the women are seated. 
Bullard swiftly but noiselessly — despite his heavy shoes — 
glides round the edge of the screen between it and the audi- 
ence. Mona sees him first, and utters a little cry). 

Mona: "Oh, Mother! There 's Father!" 

Bullard: "Yes, you little brat, I've tracked you 'ere at 
last, and your fine, dutiful Parent — ^ha! ha! I've a little ac- 
count to settle with you. Madam, when I gets you 'ome — " 

Mrs. Bullard: "You'll never do that—" 

Bullard: "Never do that, and why not, pray?" 


Mrs. Bullard: ''Because I'm never going to your home 
any more. YouVe beaten me once too often, Mr. Bullard. 
The worm has turned at last. I go home with you no more." 

Bullard: "Well, we'll see about that — you may rest as- 
sured, Madam, — we'll see about that. In the meantime "ow 
do you propose to live and where do you propose to live?" 

Mrs. Bullard: "I propose to live at the head farmer's 
here — he has a wife and little girl, and take in sewing to 
support myself." 

Bullard: "Oh! You do, do you? A pretty notion that — 
a very pretty notion, indeed. Well, I'll have none of it, so 
come along now, come along now!" 

Mrs. Bullard: "I'll do no such thing." 

(Bullard has been standing at the foot of the table, half 
facing the audience, and facing the women. He thereupon 
darts forward and seizes a pair of tongs at the right of the 
fire-place, and raises them to strike his wife. She — so soon 
as he darts forward — hastily retreats with Mona by the hand, 
to a recess at the left of the fire-place — between it and the 
audience — here there is a large, closed wood-box. She kneels 
down by this with Mona under her, protecting the child, and 
her head bowed, awaiting Bullard's blows. Meantime Viola 
has darted toward the door and opening it screams). 

Viola : "Hugh, Help ! Help !" 

(Bullard begins to rain blows upon his wife's head. She 
has very heavy black hair, done up in a coil on top of her 
head. This saves her life. At the second cry for help Stut- 
field's voice is heard shouting). 

Stutfield: "All right. I'm coming!" 

(Bullard pays no attention to Stutfield's voice. Soon the 
sound of Stutfield's feet is heard, and followed by Viola he 
dashes into the room and hisses). 

Stutfield : "Wife-beater ! " 

(Stutfield darts round the end of the screen, rushes at 
Bullard and seizes him by the collar, jerks him away from 
his wife, and pinions him against the wall in the comer, by 
the throat. Stutfield's left hand on Bullard's throat. Bullard 
has the tongs still in his right hand. A tug of war then en- 
sues between Stutfield and Bullard. Stutfield trying to keep 
him pinned to the wall so that he cannot swing the tongs. 


Bullard trying to push Stutfield from him so that he can 
land a knock-down blow on top of Stutfield's head. Stut- 
field has on the Nile green and silver velvet Rugby School, 
England, football cap on his head on entering, and it is on 
during the struggle. Gradually Bullard pushes Stutfield 
away, and getting him far enough off for a half-arm blow, 
swings the tongs and knocks Stutfield down. Viola screams 
once, but stands her ground a few feet behind Stutfield. As 
he falls, she darts forward, and bends over his head, spread- 
ing out her arms saying). 

Viola: "Strike me, you bully — you can't hit him when 
he's down!" 

(Bullard sneers silently and disregarding Viola watches 
the unconscious Stutfield attentively. In about two seconds 
from the time Viola spoke, Stutfield opens his eyes, and be- 
fore either Viola or Bullard know, is on his feet and crouch- 
ing to spring once more at Bullard's throat. They watch one 
another silently for a few seconds. Then Stutfield advances 
straight at Bullard's throat with left arm outstretched stiff, 
to its fullest extent. He has hardly made two strides when 
Bullard brings down the tongs full on top of his head — which 
still has the heavy velvet cap on, with a silver knob the size 
of an acorn — of silver wire on the top. This knob saves his 
life. It and the velvet break the force of the blow. Stut- 
field drops insensible in his tracks. Once more, Viola screams, 
and once more stretches her arms over the prostrate Stut- 
field saying). 

Viola : "Kill me, if you like, but you shan't touch him." 

Bullard: (Sneering). "Your feller, eh? Well, I fancy 
I done for 'im that time. D — n 'im, interferin' in my family 
affairs. Now, I've got a little bone to pick with this lady." 

(Bullard moves towards the still crouching but silent 
woman — save for her low moans when he struck her, and 
frightened sobs from the little child. Just before he reaches 
her, Viola gives a piercing scream, and cries out immediately 

Viola: ''Help! Murder r 

Bosco: (In low tones from the comer of the screen — 
the same round which Stutfield charged at Bullard). "I'se 
here, Miss. I'se here. Miss. Bosco here. Bosco '11 do him — 


watch Bosco! Lawd-Gawd! Is dat Mr. Stutfield layin' 
there? Your murderin' villain!" 

(With that, Bosco crouches like a tiger and springs upon 
BuUard from behind, bringing Bullard down flat on his back 
under him. By this time Stutfield has come to, and risen 
to his feet). 

Viola: (In a low tone). "Are you hurt, my darling?'' 

Stutfield: (In the same low voice). "No^ my dearest 
darling, not a bit. You precious child! It took the threat 
of death — of my death to melt your frozen bosom. Do you 
love me?" 

Viola: "Yes, my hero. I do." 

Stutfield: "'Thanh God. then^ for those two hlows! You 
saved the day though, dearie. As I went off into my two 
sleeps your sweet, bell-like voice was ringing in my ears — ^like 
a silver trumpet-call, sounding the charge ! And by Gad ! my 
black Bosco heard your bugle and "made good." Look at the 
black rascal holding that murderous villain down." 

I hereby crown you Queen of Love and Beauty of this 
tournament — this modern Ashby-de-la-Zouche of 'Ivanhoe' " 
(Kissing her hand. Viola blushing, smiles, and half with- 
draws her hand hastily glancing towards Mrs. Bullard and 
child, who, however, are too intent watching the group in 
the corner just vacated by themselves to pay any attention 
to the lovers. Seeing that there is no danger of being ob- 
served, she relinquishes her hand to Stutfield, and bowing 
smiling says) — 

Viola: "The Queen of Love and Beauty accepts the 
glorious crown placed upon her unworthy head, by thy glori- 
ous hand Sir Knight of ^Rokeby.' Whose head-dress sug- 
gests the oriental pomp of the dauntless, but ruthless Sir 
Brian de Bois Guilbert: and whose character that of the 
stainless Wilfred of Ivanhoe." 

Stutfield: "My adored darling" (kissing her hand once 
more) "You make me the proudest and happiest of men." 

(Mrs. Bullard has risen, and with Mona has seated her- 
self as before. She is dishevelled, her hair hanging about 
her waist, but no blood visible from the cuts afterward found 
in her scalp, and no wounds on her face. The child is un- 


Viola: ''How do you do, now, my poor woman?" 

Mrs. Bullard: "Oh! It was dreadful— but he didn't 
break my skull, my hair saved that. The negro came just in 
time, though, for my hair was all that saved it, and that was 
falling — the last strands under the last blow, Mr. Stutfield, 
came into the struggle on. How are you sir?" 

Stutfield: "Very well, thank you. I'm delighted there 
are no bones broken. I can assure you of your divorce, 
Madam — with such witnesses to such an act, you could aknosi 
— I say almost — get a divorce from Rome herself. How's the 
little girl?" 

Mrs. Bullard : "She's quite untouched, Sir. I knelt over 

Stutfield: "I saw that you did — my brave woman — I 
saw that you did. You are a noble, self-sacrificing Mother. 
Now. ladies, watch me direct the manoevres on the field of 
battle with my heavy Numidian cavalry — to use a bold meta- 
phor. Bosco!" 

Bosco: "Yes, Suh." 

Stutfield : "Let the dog up, and as soon as he rises take 
the old hold — you know what I mean — the hold I've always 
told you to aim for." 

Bosco: "Yes, Suh." 

Stutfield : "And hold it till death do you part." 

Bosco: "Yes, Suh." 

Stutfield : Now watch him close and strike him a knock- 
out blow on the point of the jaw if he tries any tricks in ris- 
ing — ^but don't strike him unless he does. If he rises quietly, 
simply get the old hold." 

Bosco: "Yes, Suh." 

(Bosco with right fist clenched and drawn back to strike, 
rises crouchingly. Bullard rises slowly but warily. Bosco 
makes a feint at him as Bullard gets his feet, and half turns 
away from Bosco. This is the latter's chance. He, quick as 
a flash, jumps behind Bullard and throws both arms round 
him from behind, pinioning Bullard's arms to his sides. Bul- 
lard 's forearms are free, but not his arms. Bosco's head is 
on Bullard's right shoulder, right next his face. Bosco's arms 
are wrapped completely round Bullard. They whirl and 
wrestle for some moments in silence. Suddenlv, Stutfield 


Tfhips out a .32 calibre Smirh l\: TTc-r::: revolver from his hip- 

pc^-c-ker. and lets it hang d.^r., T:-:iniing to the tI<>or. hi^ linger 
on the trigger). 

Stutfield: "Pray, dcn't be concerned at the sight of this 

little g\:n. hii-^, I ha^-"en'r :h- r-i;:::^^: i"^-:. :f rniploying 
it — na rJie r-:::::-;: — Vmi E\;ii:.r:: i~ :. :_;: :::' ;.-^-- riowerfu] 
man. He is — I hear — i^:^n r: ':.\-'^ "'. : ::..:i::;, i tie — 
always a ^b f;r t^: ~r: n; ::-.r:\ — ::: i.: — h : \i iers. and put it 
in piaor :ii;nr ::i :i:r :;:. i-ri. -: :: i^-::': '.:> to take too 
many chan:es vr:r:i a gcn:iT::::n ci :::= 5::"rn^:h :i arm and 
weakness oi m:r^.:ity, X:". Air. B";.ii; " - \i in your 

alabaster ear. Yo^Ve h^ari "i:::: I ^:.:;.. .:c::. -c^w ears 
are open, and you very v--i' irn;— ycvr own in: . _ :r — at 

least — vrh::.t i-iryear to you to be your c^r- inrrir-:.-. I have 
the determinuiion presently f:* have y:\; h;".;n:i, hand and 
foot, wamiiy wra^i^iri in ':i:::i:rrs. ':.n"i i:.::i ::'_ :. ": 7 :1 of straw. 
in the bottom of my four-mule wag:n. :.:.:• oni^r: : 7. -:::^d 
escort of my hands — who'll Vj,^ the i'r\ z -r:;;: ^^-:\ o if 
you attempt to es:are — haui y:o i :■ Ch:.;i:::r5'oiir, : ivi :orn 
you over to the sheriff. I shall then in-nroiT ;:: ;7T:i:ng; in 
Mrs. Bullard's behalf for a divcnoe. on t::^ gr:o:_;i z :rueity. 
Meantime. yo\-"ii ha""- b--n tried, and conarmnei ;:oi ^rnt tn 
the peni:en:iary f:^ a term of years for at:-::o":7i ;-r ";i: : 
kill— not ':nlv\;o.:.n Mrs. Bullard. but ut:::. -- v.::-:L:h- 
self. M^amime. Mrs. Bullard will hav, ^^oreirhaa 1:-.-:::^ 
ani with Mona will have sailed to England at my expense. 
That is the programmae that await= you. Mr. J'^hn Bullard." 
(During this spceah S:urh-ld has inaav-rrTuriy .irawn 
nearer Bullard than if disrieet. For. all of a sudden, the 
latter thrusts forth his left hand and seizes the ris::! by the 
butt and Stutfield's hand at the same timr. fa:a/;i:r.g with 
the butt in order to prize it out of Stutfield's hand, pointing 
the pistrd and Srutd^ld's hand at ^re and the ~a:ur t::u- full 
at Mrs. Buiiarl's fa/e. Sruiiieii :n-rantiy --;:._:; lOr .u~i';'l 
back by exerting all his force, and throwing his bc-dy into 
the swircr. Thev are now ~r n'ing against the wood-box — 
the pistol pointing past Bilara"; head, into the abutting 
chimney. Bosco holds Bulhird .^1 tanh;--. A diiel t-:* the 
death is in progress — a wr:~r- iuel. so> to speak, between Stut- 
field and Bullard. Suddenly Stutfield says) : 


Stutfield: "I see your fingers, Bullard, like a tarantula's 
legs, stalking down the pistol barrel. I see your little game. 
It 's this : to work your way down the barrel till your thumb 
is inside the trigger-guard of this self-cocker. Then push 
the barrel in one of two directions, either towards Mrs. Bul- 
lard, or, over backwards into my face. Whenever the muz- 
zle has reached whichever of the positions you aim at, you 
will then press your thumb against my trigger-finger and 
explode the piece — and if your aim is as good as your gall — in 
meditating such a piece of impertinence — to put it somewhat 
mildly — Mrs. Bullard or myself will drop dead. You will 
then wrench the pistol out of my dead hand and kill Bosco, 
and then Mrs. Bullard, and then Miss Cariston, and lastly, 
your little daughter, and then jump for the woods and hope to 
make good your "get-away." That 's your little programme. 
But there 's one little difficulty in putting the same into exe- 
cution — namely, that I'm your master when it comes to wrists. 
Of course, you don't know it, but I'm an expert fencer with 
both right and left hands, and nothing so steels the wrist, so 
strengthens and hardens it while keeping the muscle flexible, 
as fencing. You are stronger than I am at a tug of war. 
You won the push of war when I tried to pin you against 
that wall. You've won two rounds of this fight. I won the 
first when I frustrated your attempt to murder your wife be- 
fore my eyes, and pulled you off your prey — ^you won the next 
two with a knock-down to your credit in each round — so it 
now stands, first round, Stutfield's. Second round, Bullard's. 
Third round, Bullard's. Fourth and last round, (about to be) 

(At that very instant the pistol explodes, and Bullard 
leaps into the air, a dead man.) 

Viola: "^y God! Hugh are vou hurt, darline?" 

Stutfield: "No, darling." 

(Bosco lets Bullard softly down on his back). 

Bosco: "He dade." 

Stutfield: (Gravely). "Yes, Bosco. 'He dade'.* 

End of Act I. Scene I. 



Act II. :^le>-z I. 

Time : Four days later. 4 P. M. 

(Drawing-room at "Elsiiiore." Thi> room has door and 
fire-place facing each other — to right and left of stage. "Wia- 
dow in wall opposite stage opens onto conservatory. Sofa 
between door and fire-place. James Lawless, in morning 
suit — tall, portly, good looking, about 30. blond, light blue 
eyes: heavy blonde moustache. Discovered reading a news- 
paper, seated on sofa). 

Liiwless: "Xew York 'Herald.' March 17th. IS^T. — yes- 
terday's paper, eh? — 'Millionaire Law-Writer and Art Pa- 
tron acquitted of killing John Bullard. Hugh Stutneld. of 
'Eokeby.' AJbemarle County. Virginia, was freed of the re- 
sponsibility for the death of John Bullard. the English wife- 
beater, who met his death in a struggle with Stutlield over 
the possession of a revolver. It was brought out at the in- 
quest held in the dining-room at 'Eokeby* that Stutneld was 
in the habit of carrying a revolver in the house — but not out 
of doors — owing to the loneliness of the situation of *Rokeby* 
and the fact that he slept entirely alone in the house — not 
another human being in it — not even a servant — and the con- 
sequent danger of a burglar's slipping into the house at any 
time and waylaying its rich owner, caused him therefore to 
have the weapon on when BuUard invaded his home. Cor- 
oner's jury compliments millionaire on courage he showed in 
voluntarily risking his life in a hand-to-hand struggle with 
the fiend, instead of drawing the revolver and forcing him — 
under pain of death — to desist from beating his wife — or 
summoning the powerful negro body-servant. "Bosco." who 
subsequently appeared and mastered Bullard — called to the 
scene by the screams of Miss Cariston. who had met and car- 
ried in her rimabout to 'Rokeby' Mrs. Bullard and her little 
eight-year-old daughter. Mona. fleeing from Bullard and on 
her way to "Eokeby' to ask legal advice concemincr divorce 
and temporary protection. Widow lodged with millionaire's 
married head-farmer. So soon as recovered from severe scalp- 


wounds inflicted by her husband — physician had to take three 
stitches in her scalp — will be returned to her brothers who are 
well-to-do hotel keepers in Liverpool — at expense of Law- 
Writer. Heavy velvet Rugby football cap which Stutfield 
used to wear when full-back on his team at Rugby School, 
in England, saves his life. Verdict of jury : 'We, the jury, of 
inquest, sitting on the body of eTohn Bullard, find that he 
came to his death by a bullet from a revolver in the hands of 
himself and Hugh Stutfield, while the latter was, in good 
faith, attempting to prevent Bullard from shooting his, Bul- 
lard's wife.'" (Laying aside newspaper). 

Lawless: ''The usual romantic fustian so dear to the 
heart of the city editor. But this farcical episode has a de- 
cidedly dangerous side to it for my hopes. Viola is a girl 
who can only be reached through the imagination. Pve tried 
every other way and found an icy harrier like that guarding 
the Antarctic pole. This ridiculous flash-in-the-pan, fire- 
works at Stutfield's may just *do the business' for me — put a 
spoke in my wheel and ruin my chances with the only girl I 
ever saw for whose possession I would sacrifice the rights and 
privileges of a bachelor life. It was most fortunate that I 
foresaw possible complications in the return to his native 
heath of Stutfield, after years of foreign wanderings, last 
January, and his consequent propinquity to my fair inamor- 
ita. Fortunate, indeed, that I carried my cares concerning 
disposing of a devilishly disagreeable factor in the situation 
to my father-confessor in law — if not religion — Belisarius 
P. Spink, attorney and counsellor at the New York bar, and 
about the slickest rascal — but at the same time, about the 
most deeply learned lawyer — practicing in any court on Man- 
hattan Island. Belisarius unfolded a plot to me about as 
damnahly hlack and foul as Hell itself ever held — short of 
actual assassination. Hardened as I am in the ways of the 
world — as a man-about-town in New York, with practically 
unlimited means for the purchase of the pleasures of the ap- 
petite — no matter which appetite or what appetite^ — sooner 
or later is bound to become — none the less, the plot unfolded 
to my far from virgin ears and developed before my far from 
virgin eyes, I am frank to say, appalled me. But necessity 
knows no law. Hence I snatched at the straw held out to my 


drowning hopes of having Viohi by fair means. Hence. I 

am here to weave the final meshes of that plot which shall 

forever free me from fear of competition from. Stutfield. 

And yet — at times — something, something resembling my old 

college friend and visitant. Kobert E. Morse. E. E. Morse — 

remorse — visits me. and stands at the foot of my bed and 

looks at me as I awake of a morning, as he used to do after a 

night with the boys in my college days at Harvard — but life 

is short and a man has but one life to live, so I decided to 

face Robert E. Morse himself before I'd forego the delights 

awaiting me in the arms of Miss Viola Cariston, whom I have 

been assiduously pursuing for one calendar year — "' 

(Enter negro servant, with telegram on tray). 

Servant: "A telegram for Mr. James Lawless, Suh, and 

a message from Miss Viola, Suh, sayin' that her horse done 

cast a shoe on her ride this afternoon, and she won't be back 

tell sundown. She*s waitin" at 'Airly' — de Miss Peytons* 

place, tell de nearest blacksmith shoe her horse." 

Lawless: ''Thank you. TTash. Here 's a quarter for 

Servant: ''Thank you. SukP 

(Exit servant). 

Lawless: (Opening telegram and reading) — 

'•Hot Springs. Virginia. March 18th. 1887. 
James Lawless. 'Elsinore.' Cobham, Va. 

Blettermole. Mrs. Blettermole and self arrive on his pri- 
vate car at Cobham about 4 P. M. to-day. Have instructed 
local storekeeper to have conveyance ready to carry us to 
'Elsinore' immediately without troubling Captain Cariston 
to send for us — he can send us back after our conference. 
Blettermole enthusiastic over plan. Madame winced sharply 
at first but the benefits accruing to the children brought her 
round. I put forward that line of thought and won the day. 

B. P. Spink." 

"So far, so good." (Pulling out his watch). "They 

should be here now. I'm glad Viola is detained. It will give 

me ample time to conclude this little business here and now." 

(Voices are heard in hall. Enter Winston Blettermole. 

dressed in sack suit of very light, rough gray, dittoes — almost 


white — with a rainbow-hued tie, tied in a bow. He is about 
medium height and wears a brown beard, trimmed to a short 
point — French fashion — and closely clipped at sides. His hair 
is brushed straight off his forehead without a part. Bletter- 
mole's eyes are brown. He is about thirty, and good looking, 
with a good, trim figure. Without being in the least ner- 
vous Blettermole gesticulates gracefully and frequently. Con- 
stantia Blettermole is a tall, elegant woman, with light gray 
eyes and brown hair, and pale skin. Dressed in the mode of 
the day. Her voice is what the French call trainante^ and 
has a peculiar drawl, not unattractive. 

Spink is a man of fifty, splendidly preserved. Not a gray 
hair in his jet black, thick head of hair, which is straight, 
and parted on the side. His features are regular, but some- 
what sharp, and are accompanied by an expression of ex- 
treme shrewdness and coldness. His eyes are so dark as to 
be almost black. He is dressed in a travelling suit of dark 
brown dittoes — a sack suit. His voice is hard and cold. He 
never makes a gesture under any conceivable circumstances. 
He speaks somewhat slowly and enunciates each word with 
marked distinctness. Blettermole enters, followed closely by 
his wife, and at some little distance by Spink. Lawless rises 
and moves to meet them). 

Lawless: "Welcome to 'Elsinore,' my fair friend" (bow- 
ing and shaking hands with Constantia) "and you, too, Win- 
ston" (shaking hands with him) "and you, my guide, phil- 
osopher and friend" (shaking hands with Spink). 

Constantia : "As fond of 'Hamlet' as ever, James, I see." 

Lawless : "Quite." 

Blettermole: "Well, Jim, how goes it, old man, down 
here in these bucolic wilds?" 

Lawless: "Fairly well, thank you, Winston, fairly well." 

Spink: "How doth my very good friend and respected 

Lawless: "Fairly well, thank you, B. P., fairly well." 

Spink: "I'm glad to hear that, for our affairs wag ex- 
ceeding well." 

Blettermole: "Yes, by Jove, Jim, that 's a great scheme 
of B. P.'s. It's the best I've heard yet for putting out of the 
runnino^ that devil. Stutfield." 


Spink: "Caution proclaims a lower tone, my most re- 
spected client, and co-conspirator in this most deep plot." 

Constantia : "Oh ! Mr. Spink, please don't use such 
words before me, at all events. You see, I am young at this 
sort of thing, and it shocks me horribly.*' 

Spink: "Pardon, madam, my gaucherie. We limbs of 
the law are apt to be brutally frank, when we are not beauti- 
fully vague, nebulous and dim in our meaning." 

Constantia: "Nothing, so help me heaven, could induce 
me to take a hand in a thing of this sort but the children's 
interests. When I think of those innocent lambs at home, and 
the wolves that prowl around the palaces of the rich — unless 
the rich have more than a million to call upon in case of 
need — I feel my mother's heart steel itself, and become deaf 
to all interests but those of my lambs. I feel that I am pro- 
tecting them from the wolves every time I add a hundred 
thousand onto the share each of my five chicks will inherit 
from Winston and me — ^you see, it takes a good, round sum of 
money to go round and leave a hundred thousand dollars in 
each dear little lap on its way. Hugh Stutfield I personally 
always liked. He always struck me as a singularly mag- 
netic, a singularly forceful personality, besides being, of 
course, what no one can very well deny when they claim to 
be in touch with the times and therefore know his record — his 
monumental law book on — Trial-by-Jury — a law-writer of 

Spink: "Pardon my interruption, Madam, constitu- 
tional law is certainly widely and learnedly discussed therein, 
but the subject of the book is: 'The Absolute Rights of the 
Individual,' a subject dear to the heart of that great lumin- 
ary of our great profession, Sir William Blackstone, author 
of the immortal ^Commentaries Upon The English Common 
Law.' " 

Constantia: "Thank you, Mr. Spink, for setting me 
right — and his nationwide plan for the application of Na- 
poleon Bonaparte's Prix de Rome — his system of foreign 
scholarships for the cultivation of painting, sculpture, archi- 
tecture, music — the voice of both women and men, as well as 
the piano and violin — and finally, the art of acting — to which 
he subscribed so heavily himself — all these things show the 


brains and character of Hugh Stutfield. But. much as I api)re- 
ciate the attributes of head and heart of Mr. Stutfield, they 
wither and fade into insignificance beside the interests of my 
offspring, who will, each of them get about a million by in- 
heriting Mr. Stutfield's property of about five millions." 

Spink: "Spoken like Cornelia, the Mother of the Grac- 
chi, Madam — Cornelia, that flower of Eoman matrons, who, 
when asked where her jewels were by a lady calling upon her, 
and showing Cornelia her priceless gems replied, 'Here are 
my jewels,' pointing to her two sons — later, by their fame, 
worthy of such a Mother." 

Constantia : "Thank you, Mr. Spink, you have a happy 
faculty of bridging the 'dark backward and abysm of time' 
of the immortal Bard of Avon, separating the tawdry pres- 
ent from the purple splendors of imperial Eome." 

Blettermole: "Constantia, you make me sick with your 
forever holding up the debauched epoch of Rome to the dis- 
advantage of our day, which you very well know is the very 
topmost height civilization has yet reached." 

Constantia: "TYinston, you very well know, my dear, 
that there were epochs and emperors of Imperial Rome which 
were quite as marked for their law and order as our own 
more enlightened days. For instance, one of the gi^eatest his- 
torians that ever lived, maintained that the golden age of 
the world — or rather that which most approached that de- 
lightful period — was the age of the Roman Emperors known 
as the Antonines — of which one was a philosopher and up- 
right man, who, from his acts and thoughts might well have 
been a follower of the Founder of Christianity, namely, Mar- 
cus Aurelius — ^the historian was Gibbon, author of that 
mighty work 'The Decline and Fall.' " 

Spink : "Mrs. Blettermole spiked your guns there, my 
bellicose and pushful client." 

Blettermole : "Oh ! Constantia is pretty apt to be cor^ 
rect in whatever she says or does, B. P., I'll admit that. Only 
it does bore me to hear her mount her Roman and Greek 

Constantia: "Winston, you are a mere boy when it 
comes to anything outside the realm of sport : or the certainly 


classic and literary, but very narrow vein of literature you 
favor with your very dijficile and eclectic regard." 

Blettermole : "Well, Constantia, let's let the matter 
drop, and get down to that plot of B. P.'s. You are aware 
that I am not much on head-work. I'd rather walk a mile 
than think a minute — '' 

Spink: "A shameful confession, wittily put, my re- 
spected client, most shameful, and for a man of your nat- 
ural wit and strength of repartee." 

Blettermole: "Drop your taffy, Spink, and get down to 
business. I caught Lawless yawning behind his hand a min- 
ute ago." 

Spink: "So be it. I shall, as Julius Caesar says, plunge 
in medids res — into the midst of things, without more ado. 
The plot is precisely this. The laws of New York State and 
those of about forty per cent, of the rest of the States of this 
grand and enlightened Union, lead the world — with the pos- 
sible exception of England — for rascality, ignorance, and vice 
upon one important but rarely worked vein of human activity. 
I allude to Insanity. Only those 4n the know' those, I mean, 
who live in large cities and happen to have property thai 
needs a lawyer's care, and also happen to have a lawyer who 
happens to be in touch with the dark and tortuous ways of 
lunacy legislation the world over^ as well as this nation over, 
i)Dly those far from numerous individuals may be said to be 
'^in the Iniow' in regard to lunacy law. I happen to be very 
much 'in the know.' Since I, Belisarius P. Spink, attorney 
and counsellor, am the man at the helm of the Steering Com- 
mittee that guides all legislation in lunacy matters at Al- 
bany, touching lunacy legislation. The great private lunatic 
asylums honey-combing the State of which 'Fairdale,' falsely 
so-called, for its real name is 'The Omnium Hospital' with 
hospital and offices on a side street, just west of Fifth Ave- 
nue — 'Fairdale' is the flower and pearl, of course, are not in 
business for the health of the owners and directors — quite the 
contrary, I do assure you. Well, now, what happens when a 
powerful interest, which makes hundreds of thousands out of 
the public yearly, gets its various heads together — why, 
what happens when railroads — steam or traction are in the 
same juxtaposition — there is something doing at Albany by 



way of manipulated legislation in order to strengthen any 
weak spots in the lines of battle — so to speak — or to reach 
out and develop — reach out after new business. So said in- 
terests keep an organization at Albany, which has its finger 
on the pulse of any and all legislation taking place, or even 
most remotely threatening to take place, concerning lunacy 
legislation at Albany. Furthermore, the steering-committee 
keeps in touch with the State Lunacy Commission at Albany 
— a body consisting of a physician, a lawyer and a layman, 
who have practically supreme power over the said chain of 
private lunatic asylums honeycombing the Empire State. For 
instance: The Lunacy Commission has the duty to inspect the 
private lunatic asylums and visit each and every inmate of 
either sex, and satisfy itself that he or she is properly con- 
fined as a lunatic. Also, the said Commission in Lunacy is 
expected to set free a man or woman who recovers his or her 
sanity after a certain amount of confinement. How honestly 
and faithfully the said Commission does its work is vividly 
illustrated by two instances — to go no farther afield. The 
head of the said State Commission in Lunacy, who is always 
the physician on the board, was caught by the Governor of 
the State of New York at bribe-taking from the heads of said 
private lunatic asylums — or certain heads, at least. The plan 
of the doctor was ingenious. He didn't do so dull a thing as 
take a money-bribe — the money might have been marked, you 
know, or the stub of the cheque tell-tale in its nature — he did 
no such dull thing. What he did was to ask these gentlemen 
to subscribe to a certain snug number of shares of stock in 
a gold mine he owned out in Utah. The ratiocination in the 
premises is fairly obvious. The doctor did not want his gold 
mine inspected too closely by holders of its stock — any more 
than the heads of said private lunatic asylums desired their 
gold mines, their private lunatic asylums, inspected too close- 
ly by the doctor. The Governor promptly removed the head 
of the State Lunacy Commission at Albany, from office — our 
having, at the time, a Governor who was actually, honestly 
interested in pure politics — politics that were pure — I desire 
to imply. The second and last instance of the strength of 
the honesty and fidelity to duty of this all-powerful Com- 
mission is aptly illustrated as follows. A poor devil — when 


I say poor devil, I desire to be understood as alluding to a 
millionaire inmate of 'Fairdale,' who had the Devilish poor 
luck to run foul of the man at the helm of the steering com- 
mittee of the private lunatic asylum Trust — your humble ser- 
vant — Belisarius P. Spink — this aforesaid poor devil f had, 
in the course of the four years he spent at 'Fairdale,' before 
he died there, been visited but once by the said Lunacy Com- 
mission, and, upon that occasion by only one member of the 
said Commission. I hope I have said enough to intimate to 
this select and distinguished audience, that a man once in- 
carcerated in 'Fairdale' has about as much chance of ever 
drawing a free breath of air again as though he were in- 
carcerated in Hell — " 

Constantia : "You surely have, Mr. Spink, you make me 
shudder. Of all the places on earth that fill me with dread, 
that place is a lunatic asylum. A person would be safer and 
more sympathetically entouree if she were surrounded by 
drunkards in all the horrid and various stages of intoxica- 

Lawless: (Aside to Spink). "B. P., be on your guard. 
You have painted the situation so strongly that Mrs. Bletter- 
mole's feminine susceptibilities have taken alarm. Beware 
lest you destroy your own handiwork by the eloquence of your 
pictorial powers. 

Spink: (Aside to Lawless). "The point is admirably 
taken. I am so utterly unused to take women into considera- 
tion — except as the play-things — ^that it's next to impos- 
sible for me to take them seriously. I shall amend 
the complaint." (Aloud). "Of course, you must make allow- 
ance for my professional habit of exaggerating the points in 
my favor, and minimizing those opposed — Mrs. Blettermole. 
I do not intend to convey that there is really the slightest 
similarity between a private lunatic asylum and Hades. Far 
from it. Nothing could be more luxurious than the grounds, 
say, of 'Fairdale.' Expensive hot-house plants are set out 
everywhere along the border of the closely cropped sward — 
looking more like one of the stately homes of England than a 

tThe author is the "poor devil" referred to. Only once was he 
visited by the Lunacy Commission in four years' incarceration. 


place for the amelioration of the physical and mental condi- 
tion of those unfortunates whose minds are clouded." 

Constantia: ^'Mr. Spink, you surely are a lawyer. You 
surely are an advocate — " 

Blettermole: "An advocate! I should say he was an 
advocate. Ha ! Ha ! An advocate ! Why, doesn't he belong 
to the Church of the Holy Advocate — on Fifth Avenue, New 
York, a recent million dollar edifice built almost entirely by 
subscriptions from members of the legal profession of New 
York City, not forgetting that conglomeration and galaxy of 
legal talent, the New York City Bar Association — and isn't 
he the senior warden of the vestry of that most sacrosanct 
congregation — which vestry is composed entirely of law- 
yers? Advocate! I should say Spink was an advocate!" 

Spink: "A-hem, A-hem. My dear Mr. Blettermole, 
permit me to observe that I have been forced more than once 
in the course of our business relations to curb your bounding 
wit when directed against my religious proclivities. ' My re- 
ligion is something entirely aside and apart from my work — " 

Blettermole: "I should say it was!" 

Spink: "Be good enough to permit me to conclude. As 
I was about to observe, my religion is something quite apart 
from my work — and I cannot permit even a client for whom, 
socially, and otherwise, I have so profound a regard as I 
entertain for Mr. Winston Blettermole and his charming 
wife — one of the reigning queens of the Four Hundred — to 
make light of the most serious — ^the most sacred thing to me 
on earth — " 

Blettermole: "Pardon me, Spink. I shall not offend 

Spink: "To conclude rapidly my plan for the perma- 
nent, forcible retirement for life into obscurity of that vig- 
orous and gifted personality, Mr. Hugh Stutfield, of Vir- 
ginia and New York. My scheme will sequester Stutfield, 
sequestrate his entire estate, and — to cap the delicious climax 
— one of the law partners of one of the most prominent mem- 
bers of the Board of Governors — so-called — of 'Fairdale' Pri- 
vate Insane Asylum, shall, by the act of a certain New York 
Supreme Court Judge, whose ear I have — as we lawyers say — 
be appointed the sequestrator of Stutfield's superb estate of 


some five million dollars, while brother Stutfield is wearing 
out his vitality and indignation behind the bars of 'Fairdale' 
on a charge of being a dangerous lunatic — a maniac with sui- 
cidal and homicidal tendencies — said charges to be preferred 
by the gentlemen here present — Mr. Winston Blettermole and 
Mr. James Lawless — the former, as his nearest blood-relative 
and heir-at-law, the latter as his 'best friend,' as we term it 
in law — " 

Lawless: "Permit a momentary interruption of your 
most interesting and instructive dissertation, Mr. Spink — but 
the idea of my being under any conceivable circumstances 
the 'best friend' — or any hind of a friend — to the tenth degree 
removed, if there is such a thing — of Mr. Hugh Stutfield, 
is far from bad. Indeed, very far from bad." 

Spink: "I agree with you absolutely, there, Mr. Law- 
less. But the law, you know, does not inquire too curiously. 
The law, you know — for a lawyer who really understands its 
profound principles and is not a mere case-chaser a mere 
authority-hunter, but stands upon and defends before more 
or less unlearned and superficial judges — while there are noble 
exceptions — as the vast majority of judges undoubtedly are — 
defends and stands upon the eternal principles of the law — 
for such a lawyer the law is the most marvellous engine for 
achieving objects contrary to the law — contrary to equity — 
contrary to justice, and contrary even to common sense, ever 
conceived by a mind less dazzling than that of his Satanic 
Majesty himself. Fortunately for the peace of society, there 
are very few such lawyers, and therefore the fower for ill of 
the law is a closed ho oh to the slothful^ ignorant, anibition- 
less gamhlers who mahe up the ranh and fie of nuy august 
profession — men for whom I have about as much respect as 
a wolf has for a herd of sheep." 

Lawless: "The New York City Bar Association would 
be highly edified, my distinguished counsel, at your above 
ohiter dictay 

Spink : "Ah, my distinguished client, you are very right 
there — very right there. But you should differentiate and ut- 
terly bar apart — as much so as sheep from goats — my remarks 
before that dignified assemblage, the New York City Bar As- 
sociation, and — and my millionaire clients about to engage in a 


war with a brother millionaire who for audacity and fertility 
of resource is a foeman worthy of our steel.'' 

Constantia: "Bravo! Mr. Spink. You fire my imagina- 
tion — this is the age of gold — if not the Golden Age — and it 
is right that in such an age, millionaires — the historical heirs 
of the Barons of old — should war upon one another. I shall 
assuage the qualms of my conscience by murmuring to my- 
self 'All 's fair in love and war' and The Battle of the Mil- 
lionaires is now onP'' 

Spink: "Brava ! My fair client. Brava!" (Aside to 
Lawless). "Gad! That was a lucky shot of mine — she 's ours 
from now on — mark my words we'll have no more backing 
and filling upon Constantia Blettermore's part — ^but, on the 
contrary, the iron will and inflexible purpose of a Lady Mac- 

Lawless : "By Jove I I believe you're right. My felicita- 

Spink: (Aloud). "There 's nothing more to be un- 
folded of this most warlike and romantic mediaeval plot — 
not another solitary word. Trust me to look to the details — 
it would take off the cream from your interest, Mrs. Bletter- 
mole, were you to know it all on the very brink of the in- 
ception of hostilities. No. Be advised, and permit me to de- 
velop my work before your eyes — as though you were a spec- 
tator in a theatre — who was unaware of the turnings and 
windings of the sufficiently tortuous and devious plot upon 
the boards." 

Constantia: "The only objection I see to your deeply 
laid and superbly prepared plot, Mr. Spink, is its absurdity." 

Spink: "Pardon me, I do not quite catch that." 

Constantia: "The only objection I see to your deeply 
laid and superbly laid plot is its absurdity." 

Spink: "You amaze me, Madam. My plot absurd?" 

Constantia: ^'The most absurd I ever heard, to be as 
sound and thoroughly prepared — outside of its absurdity." 

Spink: "Please oblige me. Madam, by naming a few of 
the absurdities." 

Constantia: "With pleasure. First, no man in the 
United States — I except no one — ^has given such infallible 
proof of reasoning power of the highest order as has Mr. 

1 . - - 

~ :11s -rri. • 

-:r^ :»^-.:rc reie..-^-^ t-:. 


:_ -.Lf 

-r: ;: ;; 

^:.. ::-^ H-'-V; 

"-T -:T -' I -7-1. - - - _ 

: .1 

. - " 

':.:i;l:i : i. 

"z. :-ir ::.'^: : : 

'.--'. - "" " -IT ~ Z - "! _ T . 



^; -^- - ^ 

1- ~7:^::^i -::: 

-' - -■- - _ : - -^ • " - - 


_.- -. - 



s" L- : 2: ^ : : 


-;;■--;■ ^- - - - -- 

- ; 



--- ^ "• -^^ ^- 



r ~ — 

_ _ "^ _ , _ 


55 z:: 1 

:r:: ii. ; - - -i-i-tt - 


"- -^i 


-'.:- — :: -z; 

I-tTt t; = t — :- t;::j.— ::-" 

- - 7 

' ^- 

I. JiT:rl:= :i :"i 

■ - has, for the rei ^ 

_ - " 7 


- _ - _ 

' : 

— - a ifoxd, tis£ 

(k - , - 

:: r :;:.T ^; :- 


* ■ T 

~ - . r 

- - - - ^ ; - 

-TT.. :i Li: i-rz. 

^ T :i%aficei.. 


■ .. . - 

•^:-::_ :■: 

.1 L ' . 

, CordoTa, ^z^i 

. _ 

, _ 


- _ - . , 


- - "=^ ' - 

' ^ T '^ - r T ! T '. " . ___ L. -^_ " ' T 


::. ::: 

r" J.- — ^- 

~ --" - 

^ ... _-.--... . _ — ^ 


-■ ^ - - - 

- / r"""- 

^1:"- rT:s:i_Lr iz. ::iT:r 


_T_ T. - 

... - . .:. _ - _ . _ -: 

- ._ .---.: — - - - - 

: i. 


7. ]■'. £ '.Z. 

1: r:: ir :ii :_r 

~ -It " t! - t ■- . _ ^ ' 1 ..-- ' ^ 

~:. — : 

:it :".iT 

— " r " - - 

•-^ ■---—" 

' . Z ". ^ _z^ " . Tt 

: T I. : 

: — : ' :1 

*" - - 

:;:-• -/ '' 

- - _ ~ > " 



— •. . . _ . 

^ ■ = : 


1 I.T 

^ : . 7 

- - — - 


::; A 

■nrs to a 
"Titm in 

bj a man like JeTms— the 
~ ~3e in all IThiYeraties em- 
Atlantic. This fital flaw 
sed too strong a word for me 
' the Aiistoldian method 
Der cent, of the i£n(»ant 


and fallacious, vain and foppisii opinions from the American 
bench — I except only the Supreme Court of the United 
States. Thus spoke the lawyer." 

Spink: "Powerfully put, my fair client — with your per- 
mission, Mr. Blettermole — 'my fair Portia. And I say 'Amen' 
to both premises, namely, that Mr. Stutfield is a logician with- 
out a peer in the United States to-day, and that the average 
American judge is a sophist without a peer in the United 
States to-day. Butj what has that to do with the case? It 
is no more essential or necessary that a rnan should he insane 
in order to imprison him for life on a charge of insanity^ in 
forty per cent, of the States and Territories of the United 
States to-day^ than iti is that he should have red hair — that 
he should he red-headed^ 

Constantia: "In that extraordinary event, I have noth- 
ing farther to say except 'So be it' — with, of course, the con- 
sent of these gentlemen." 

Blettermole: "O. K. for me." 

Lawless: "I agree, provided one sole thing. You know, 
Blettermole, that the only reason I came into this thing was 
to free my field of the only dangerous rival to Viola Caris- 
ton's hand that has ever entered it — namely, Stutfield. Your 
secret is safe with me; and if the condition I now am about 
to name is not fulfilled, and I am forced to withdraw, all 
you will have to do will be to hunt up another 'best friend' 
from among Stutfield's worst enemies to take my place, and 
the trick will be turned. Don't look so black, Blettermole. 
And you, Spink, reserve your sarcastic smile till you hear. 
Perhaps my condition will prove no barrier, but by Gad ! an 
added incentive to my zeal to join with you to the bitter end. 
I shall propose once more to Miss Cariston upon her return 
this afternoon — she's expected any moment now. If she ac- 
cepts me — which is damnably — pardon me that slip of the 
tongue, Constantia — doubtful — I withdraw. If not, I'm with 
you to the death. 

Blettermole : "Agreed." 

Constantia : "Agreed." 

Spink: "Agreed." 

Lawless: "Many thanks. iN'ow there 's going to be no 
Romeo and Juliet business about my venture in the field of 


love — presumably — in a few minutes. I'm neither in the 
mood for Romeo's part, nor is there occasion. Eomeo's part 
will very well keep. I shall make occasion to see Miss Caris- 
ton privately upon her return from riding and promptly pro- 
pose. "\ATiereupon, she will either refuse or accept me. I've 
been there before — she does not dilly dally over the cere- 
mony of decapitating rejected suitors — " 

Constantia : "Viola is a dear girl, and my very best and 
sweetest — and one of my oldest — girl friends on earth; I'd 
have you understand, James, and I cannot and will not per- 
mit even a breath against her." 

Lawless: "My dear Constantia, I hadn't the faintest 
idea of breathing so much as a syllable against the woman I'm 
risking my soul for — if I have a soul, which at times I very 
much doubt — " 

Constantia: "You stand excused." 

Lawless: "If she accepts me, all well and good. Mr. 
Spink can hunt up another 'best friend.' If she refuses. I re- 
turn with you in your car to-night, and hostilities begin to- 
morrow in the offices of Belisarius P. Spink, Esq., attorney 
and counsellor, "Wall street, New York. I shall deputize you, 
Constantia, as my fair ambassadress with Miss Cariston — I 
trust to your woman's tact to get her to me, and keep Cap- 
tain Cariston off, and herd these men in the library for the 
five minutes necessary for me to learn my preliminary fate — 
for my real fate will not be in issue until Stutfield has been 
put out of the way — then I shall lay siege to her hand in 
true style." 

Constantia: "With pleasure. James. And whatever the 
prayers of a poor, sinful, temptation-tossed mother like me, 
are worth are at your disposal." 

Lawless: "I thank you, Constantia, from my heart." 
(Kisses her hand). 

(The light has been gradually lowering till it is now 
dusk. Spink goes to the fireplace and pokes the logs. A 
bright blaze bursts up. As he does so, the door opens and in 
walks Viola, followed by Captain Cariston, in riding cos- 
tume. He is a rather tall, slender man with grizzled mous- 
tache and imperial — short imperial — with acquiline features 
and erect, militarv but courteous, but non-pompous, non- 


exaggerated bearing. Viola is dressed in a ball gown in the 
style of 1887. In other words decolletee but without the un- 
sightly and hypocritical gauze fringe or, so to speak, panta- 
lets; which nowadays shroud the outline of the bust as 
though it were a shameful thing: while throwing into relief 
the armpits and navel — or. at the very least, near-navel of the 
lady. We are Pro-Allies to the last degree, in the present 
European unpleasantness; but we do earnestly wish that bet- 
ter men may be spared, and that German bullets may find 
a lodgment in the degraded and degenerate carcasses, as re- 
gards taste in female apparel, at least, of Paul Poiret and 
the rest of his pirate crew — the balance of the randy French- 
men who bedeck our dames; so that they make a man-about- 
town think of a group of soiled doves, "sitting for company" 
in the parlour of a "sporting-house," upon glimpsing, a bevy 
of society maidens and matrons at the opera, or other social 
function, nowadays.) 

Viola: "Connie!" 

Constantia: "Viola!" 

(They hurriedly move towards each other and embrace 

Viola: "I slipped this dress on to save dressing twice, 
after my ride with Papa — since I'm booked to a ball at the 
Country Club to-night." 

Constantia: "How well you're looking, dear. I haven't 
seen you since the Patriarch's in January — " 

Captain Cariston : (After shaking hands with the men, 
and later, Mrs. Blettermole) . "How d'ye do, gentlemen. De- 
lighted to welcome you to 'Elsinore.' How do you do, Mr. 
Lawless, and you, Mr. Blettermole?" 

Lawless: "Permit me to introduce to you a legal friend 
of mine, Mr. Belisarius P. Spink, of the Metropolitan bar." 
(Captain Cariston and Spink shake hands). 

Constantia: "Now I want you to show me once more, 
and particularly Mr. Spink, those old Shakspeares you have — 
the folio edition that has been in your family for ages — " 

Captain Cariston: "With pleasure." 

(They start out, and Lawless catches Viola's eyes and 
makes a slight motion with his right hand — the others all 

se ?: '!■ 3 z z ?: Y 7 X !■ Z R L ^ 

SI.::!:: .:^-" ^.void looki::^' at V::li and Li 


V:^i : Aj^, La^-ess ani I wiU ioiii you in the library." 

iS: SMu as tie aior clrfes. La-'ess sajs gravely, as he 
leads Viola towards tie £:ia — :1: r ina is sill cilj lit by 

Lai^fkss: *-T:la. I seizei rlis -:::::■ i.:" --Mse I 
am called to Xevr Y::s :::__:::, :i. 3^r::e:zile s car — " 

VMa: -TTl-. Jazies, I ::::;.^1- ":■_:, -e:- .rlii^ to be 
wiOi us for several aajs luge:, aa.:! aan:- ~::-i iie at tie 
ball to-ni^t^^ 

liairless: ^I -a a: aai-:e -■::':- -:::.. aaaer al — I a:::.~ :::r:~ 
up fliis vitallT aiaa a::::: — a aa::_Tr — a a :' — :::^lv 

important laarter. It al aTSTs ~:la 7- v.." 

powea :: ga'a^: — la: ":"a aesaa^ — " 

Lavr:,as; •Yar hand/^ 

Vila: •■•11 : Jaaiaes, I emk so sorry — ^you know how 
muil I a:laa:ar 7:aa :rilliaiit ndnd, and cool, calm person- 
altv. Bat. as I lava told yon once beftwre, a laaa: ai Tr^::r 
te-aeraaaea.: :a' -erar :- ::^t l-asband." 

La-lss: "Aza -^t aar :ea;-.eranirait?'' 

Vila ; X:t to be : ^ :a:el -:aDse yoa are t: 1 
azaa :zl:a:^l -.i:^ -atteriy iii:e:a:i^-as:a-::: — n'^t. to be ^:a:ar::-~ 
fas: :^a::'r : — -jy many — a:: a^ — "ii a. a little a s 

tla aae a have been and s: 1 it — lnt ont of l:ir a : a. 
f:a a::a 1:1_^ zie. Yon see. I aar. s: lar-sila.tea I aiusi -.-it^ 
entiaasasaa la. a man — VaHr? : - 

La-l55: '-If rlat 's al 7:;: ~a-:. I :— ^e as enthusi- 
jis::: as :a_e aaasiest t7r:' an tJae l:vreas :f love you ever 
dreaanea :a," 

Vila: "B\:t ia: tlat very -ana^aai event. Janae>. you 
would he a::inr."' 

La-i^as: ^Sa ^e it, I tale n:v • •; • 1 Do not think I 
part in an^er I Irnlv :e ie a I - li n you in time. 
G a n ra: n — * r ra^ aa — n:— r 1 va Via. good-bye. 
W:l- -:a: -ernaissian. -av I k:s,5 vour land." 


Viola : ''Certainly, James. You know I will always care 
for you as. and value you as one of my most valued friends." 

Lawless: ^'May the Gods forbid P^ 

(They leave the room together. The door opens shortly 
thereafter and enter Stutfield, in evening dress, with a pair 
of saddle-bags over his arm. Stands leaning on mantel- 

Stutfield: "As close a shave as I care to experience! 
Phew ! As soon as I drove in on one side of the oval before 
the house, the Blettermole gang and that crafty rascally but 
deeply learned shyster, Belisarius P. Spink, Esq., attorney 
and counsellor and pillar of the bar of Manhattan Island, 
with his hopeful client, that cold-blooded rogue and delicate 
debauchee, Mr. James Lawless, multi-millionaire, drove out 
on the other. A close shave, indeed. The moon came out 
from behind a cloud and shone full in their faces in the open 
carriage — they saw me, and I saw them — " 

(Door opens, and Yiola enters). 

Viola: "Hugh! You here?- 

Stutfield: "Yes, darling. I slipped into the house after 
the others left, and slipped a quarter into Wash's hands to 
keep 'mum,' and get you in here at once by hook or crook — " 

Viola: "Oh! I see now the cause of Wash's mysterious 
looks and words. He said: 'Miss Vi, Mr. Lawless tol' me 
befo' he left to ax you partickler. Miss, to go in de drawin' 
room an stan' befo' de fire for a minute, tell you f oun' a note 
he leff for you under de clock on de mantelpiece — ' " 

Stutfield : "Good for Wash — he 's got the imagination 
of a darkey, all right. Now, dearie, just slip out and see the 
Captain and tell him I have important business with you, 
that won't brook delay and will not long detain you from 
dinner — possibly dinner's not impending immediately — " 

Viola : "It is not." 

Stutfield: "Good! I'll only detain you about fifteen or 
twenty minutes." 

Viola: "Then you must stop to dinner, and go to the 
ball with us after." 

Stutfield: "Delighted — provided you will honour me 
with a dance — in fact — the majority of them." 

Viola : "With pleasure." 

Stutfield: "Now that I've protected my lines — as they 


say in military parlance — 111 do what I've not had time to do 
before." (A pause). 

Viola: "And what might that be, my dear Hugh?" 

Stutfield: "That might be almost anything — speaking 
by and large — but it happens to be but one thing — and that 
is kiss you, my precious sweetheart." (They embrace). 

Stutfield: "Now, darling, please post the pickets with 
the Captain so that we shall not be interrupted." 

Viola: "I sha'nt be a moment, Hugh." 

(Stutfield sits down and gazes thoughtfully at the saddle- 

Stutfield: "One hundred thousand — two hundred thou- 
sand — " 

(Enter Viola); 

Viola : "It's all right, darling. Papa's immersed in some 
papers connected with his live-stock — you know this is a three 
thousand acre stock farm, and he raises beef for the Northern 
market — we have very fine corn and grazing land — blue 
grass — and it's his delight. He won't budge till we go to him." 

Stutfield: "Good. Now my angel darling — " (kissing 
both her hands and putting his arm around her and 
taking both her hands in his left as they seat them- 
selves on the sofa) "what I am about to say sounds 
more like the Arabian Nights or Monte Cristo and 'The 
World is MineP with that supremely good romantic actor, 
James O'Neil, in the role, than anything you ever heard of 
in modem life. I should like nothing better than to sit here 
and fondle and caress your lovely, bewitching self for the 
next twenty minutes. But I have matters more unattractive, 
but — now that I'm your accepted suitor, and the engage- 
ment known only to you and me, and to be announced 
shortly — more important. It is this. You know that I am 
a student ever since my Columbia University days in old New 
York, of Ps5'Chology and fExperimental Psychology at that. 
Now I am going to tell you a secret. I am what they call, 
vulgarly, a clairvoyant — the sort of thing generally, if not 
always — of your charming sex — nearly always women — you 
see advertised in the Sunday 'Herald' and even week day 
'Herald' not to say 'World,' 'Sun,' 'Tribune,' 'American,' 

fThe statements concerning: Experimental Psychology found above 
are taken almost verbatim from the "Statement by Dr. Horatio Curtis 
Wood, Dec. 10, 1900," found on pages 68-73, inclusive, of "Four Years 
Beliind the liars of Bloomin»dnle," Dr. Wood being one of the Plaintiff's 
alienists in the case of Chaloner v. Sherman, being at said date Pro- 
fessor of Nervous Diseases in the University of Pennsylvania. 


^Globe, and 'Telegraph' to name but a handful of the big 
New York dailies. I've never been to one, but I know people 
who have — I don't believe in them — if they were bona fide 
clairvoyants they'd make more money on their own account 
than pretending to mind other peoples' business for them. To 
resume. Not a human being knows of this faculty of mine 
but you. For one reason because I've been investigating it 
secretly until I could produce results worth while giving to 
the scientific world in book form — you know that I am a 
Master of Arts as well as a Bachelor of Arts — " 

Viola: "I knew that, Hugh." 

Stutfield: "I've been at work on this thing for three 
years and am only at the outer door of the mysteries of the 
human mind — the normal human mind. I cannot go into a 
trance or even a trance-like state as yet — such as these clair- 
voyants do — they don't go to sleep, but lie back in a chair and 
in a dreamy, slow voice speak at the instigation of their sub- 
consciousness. I can't do that as yet. But I may do so in 
time. What I can do is just this, and that is why I am here 
contrary to all the rules of Hoyle, with a rival in the house — 
or I thought was here when I came — but I was bound to see 
3^ou — but alone, of course — so it made no difference to me 
whether Lothario Lawless — my nick-name for him — whether 
the gay Lothario were here or no. Now here 's the point. 
I've got intuitions — or premonitions — down to so fine a point 
— finer than those recorded in any of the scientific works on 
Psychology, even including The Society for Psychical Ee- 
search of England, of which Professor William James, Pro- 
fessor of Psychology at Harvard was once President, as well as 
Arthur Balfour, late Premier of Great Britain, and Sir Wil- 
liam Crookes, inventor of Crookes' Tubes — without which there 
would be no X-Eay — I've got it down so fine that I can tell 
for twenty-four hours in advance whether I am going to have 
good luck, bad luck, or 'nothing doing' good or bad. Now, 
this is done thus. When I wake in the morning I take ac- 
count of stock the instant I recover consciousness. I ask my- 
self how I feel — I don't mean physically — for I'm a very 
moderate, careful liver and always wake up feeling physi- 
cally the same — O. K. that is to say — ^but how I feel as 
regards my spirits — am I depressed — exhilarated — or neither 


one nor the other, just a flat calm. If I feel exhilarated — 
three years carefully kept written record proves that I will 
surely have good news that day — in the next twenty-four 
hours — a favorable telegram or letter will surely arrive, or a 
messenger will bear me a favorable message. If I feel de- 
pressed it is just as sure as 'eggs is eggs' that a bad letter or 
wire will arrive : if neither hilarity nor depression, that noth- 
ing will arrive and I may take a day off from business. 1 
have been working this rabbit-foot in my large and multi- 
farious business affairs to the Queen, her most gracious Maj- 
esty's taste, for the past year or more. My brother directors 
on boards wondered why I pursued so bold or — on occasion 
so wisely — cautious a course, fighting for the control of each 
and every board I am on, and invariably achieving that de- 
sired end. But I did not oblige them by informing them, 
^ow, on waking this morning I was most extraordinarily de- 
pressed. You know, my darling, no man on earth has more 
cause for heartfelt joy than your devoted and proud accepted 
lover — " 

Viola: ''''Dear Hugh!" (He kisses her). 

Stutfield : "So I acted accordingly. Now, I am not able 
to foretell — as yet — the future, for more than twenty- four 
hours. Nor am I able as yet to foretell a solitary detail there- 
of beyond the fact that something good is going to occur — 
something bad is going to occur — or, lastly, that nothing is go- 
ing to occur — good or bad — in my personal, private affairs for 
the ensuing twenty-four hours. I, of course, before going to bed 
the night before, know whether I have cause to wake up this, 
that, or the other way, next day — ^^depressed, exhilarated, or 
neither — ^but that, of course "cuts no ice" whatever. It is en- 
tirely outside and beyond known and recognized causes for 
exhilaration, depression or stagnation in my affairs, that these 
premonitions or intuitions work. / can hy them foretell^ pro- 
phesy, or what you will, with mathematical accuracy — the 
accuracy of a ship's barometer, which foretells loithin twenty- 
fonr hours the approach of the hurricane, or the change of 
the hurricane into fair weather — regarding storm^ favonng 
gale^ or calm^ in my private affairs. In a word, I am a hu- 
man barometer, as regards one sole thing— namely— my own 
personal affairs— ^nd only one of three aspects of them, name- 


ly, success, threatened difficulty, or 'nothing doing, Mr. Stut- 
field, to-day.' That is the mysterious and highly valuable in- 
formation telegraphed me — so to speak — on waking from a 
distance of tim(' twenty-four hours removed from my waking 
hour — by my subconsciousness. An extremely useful asset I 
have found it. Miss Cariston — and I hereby go on record and 
stake my reputation as an embryo clairvoyant — that the time 
will come %ohen you will admit that I did loell to follow the 
promptings of my sul) consciousness and bring these saddle- 
bags here to-night — absolutely outside and beyond the reach 
of any judge — for I can well imagine contingencies when it 
would pay me to go to jail for contempt of court for an ex- 
tended period, rather than divulge the whereabouts of so 
tempting a thing as their contents." 

Viola: "Do they contain Aladdin's Lamp, Hugh?" 

Stutfield : "Something very like it, my child. Now to 
wind this weird talk up. Here 's how I act on my premoni- 
tions. On waking, I take instant account of stock as to my 
feelings. If exhilarated, I push sharply all plans of action 
made before going to sleep the previous night. If depressed, 
I ride for a fall, pull in my horns, fight a rear-guard action, 
close reef my sails — or even prepare to scud under bare pol»*»> 
before the storm. Now if it so happens that I have no im- 
mediate plan of action I carefully scan my personal horizon 
and see where ill chance might injure me. Instantly, like a 
ship in a storm I make for port with whatever might be in- 
jured by ill fortune. That 's why I'm here so hastily to- 
night. I have here the tidy sum of two million two hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars." (Touching the saddle-bags with 
his foot). "In these good old saddle-bags, twenty-two hun- 
dred thousand dollars in Government bonds and the balance 
in cash — fifty thousand dollars in cash in one thousand dol- 
lar bank notes, neatly tied in packets of ten thousand dollars 

Viola: ''Hughr 

Stutfield: "A fact, my darling. Now give me a sweet 
kiss. A kiss for two million and a quarter — " 

Viola: (Putting up her lips, quietly). "There. Now 
why is all this money here?" 

Stutfield: "I prefaced this interview by saying — you 

42 R B E E R Y U X D E R L A W 

will remember my darling." (kissing her two hands, still held 
in his left while his right arm still encircles her waist) "that 
it smacked of Monte Cristo and the Arabian Xights.*' 

(Viola smilingly bows assent). 

Viola : '"I was somewhat struck by that remark, my darl- 
ing, and am therefore not so OTerwhelmed with surprise at 
the contents of those saddle-bags as I most assuredly other- 
wise would have been." 

Stutfield: So far. so good. The reason for this extra- 
ordinary act is this. This is the result of a sale I have just 
put through of a patent I bought for about sixty thousand 
dollars, some five years ago. I saw the possibilities in it. It 's 
what they call a "basic patent." which means an elementary 
new principle in mechanical devices, as the original sewing- 
machine invented by Howe was a basic patent. If proper- 
ly covered it could not be got round by any improvement 
whatever for the seventeen years of life patents have to run. 
Any improvement on a basic patent can only be used by 
paying a royalty to the inventor. TTell. I met the inventor — 
an honest, amusingly shrewd and original real gerdus — all 
basic inventors are geniuses — and backed him to develop the 
patent — which then looked about as much like the compact, 
graceful thing a man can now carry in his waistcoat pocket. 
as a mowing machine looks like a lawn tennis racquet. It 
was cumbersomeness. complexity, and clumsiness itself. But, 
pardon my saying so, I am something of a judge of my fel- 
low man. and spotted Albert TTedge — of *Up State* Xew 
York — as an original genius, and therefore capable of devel- 
oping the patent sufficiently to sell. My friends — some — not 
all — thought I was a damn fool — excuse me. Viola, that slip- 
ped out — *■ 

Viola : "You are excused, my dear.'" 

Stutfield: "A thousand thanks. Some of my friends 
thought I was a fool to blow in sixty thousand dollars on an 
undeveloped patent. I stuck to it for five mortal years, and 
spent the sixty thousand in developing it. and. at last was 
rewarded by TTedge's out-TTedginof himself and producing 
something so supremely simple, cheap and easy to make, so 
light, and of small compass and of about as wide a market de- 
mand as the world hold=. namelv. an attachment for the sew- 


ing-machine by which the needle is threaded by a pressure of 
the foot—" 

Viola : "The needle threaded with one's foot." (Laugh- 

Stuttield: "Precisely — it's an open-eyed needle with a 
slot, and the thread is pushed into the slot by a simple con- 
trivance every time the needle enters the goods and is released 
from the thread the instant it leaves the goods; thus the bore 
of threading the needle and the expense of breaking needles 
by bending them, by inadvertently pulling the goods from 
under the pressure-bar, is entirely obviated — since the needle 
is never in the goods. I owned ninety per cent, of the stock of 
the company buying the patent to develop. So after five 
years of the most fearful care and constant anxiety, I have 
turned my sixty thousand dollars into two millions and a 
quarter — not bad for a young fellow spending most of his 
time in Paris, and pushing Wedge by flying visits and con- 
stant letters and cablegrams. Wedge's genius pulled me 
through — saved the day and my sixty thousand — and I now 
take care of him for life. Of course, like all inventors, he 
had sold his interest early — before I got hold of him — and 
for a song." 

Viola: "I should say, indeed, not at all bad, Hugh, for 
a young fellow." 

Stutfield : "Thank you my dear. Only a few days ago a 
London syndicate bought the entire world-rights of the pat- 
ent for five hundred thousand pounds, or two million five hun- 
dred thousand dollars. They handed me that amount which 
I converted yro tern into Government Bonds, after deduct- 
ing ten per cent, or a quarter of a million dollars for the 
other stockholders in the patent — and paying the same over 
to them — and placed the two million and a quarter in my fire- 
proof safe at 'Eokeby' to await investment; and, mark you, 
darling, be meanwhile quite out of the highly improbable 
but possible reach of absconding bank presidents." 

Viola: "It certainly sounds like the Arabian Nights," 

Stutfield: "With this difference, my darling. It 's no 
dream; but two million and a quarter of the good 'long- 
green.' " 


(Viola laughs merrily and he kisses her on the lips. He 
then goes on) — 

Stutfield: '"I had sold forty thousand dollars worth of 
the SeLf -Threading Sewing-iMachine attachments, in the first 
six months the mechanism — in its final perfected form by 
Wedge — was ready for the market. We booked and filled 
forty thousand dollars worth of orders, at five dollars an or- 
der, five dollars a Self-Threader, within six months last past. 
These sales were made without going outside of Xew York 
City. A sewing-machine drummer or sewing-machine repairer 
was given a grip-sack full of ^S. T.^s — Self -Threaders — and 
turned loose on Xew York. They are as simple to attach to 
the sewing-machine as any other attachment. Hence they 
went like hot cakes — forty thousand dollars culled, reaped, 
garnered, out of hard old Xew York, inside of six months, 
and not one dollar for advertising agents, traveling expenses, 
or even salary. We gave them fifty per cent on the first 
twenty-five 'S. T.'s' each sold, and twenty-five per cent, there- 
after. It was on the strength of this marvellous showing, and 
the basic nature of my patents — ^I'd girdled the world — wid\J 
scope and reach of patents — I'd girdled the world — literally 
girdled the world with vS. T.' patents — it was on the strength 
of the quick spot cash sales of 'S. T.', the strength of her pat- 
ents, and the reach thereof that clinched the deal with the 
big British Syndicate. That 's capitalized at ten million 
dollars, and is going to make things hum. My darling, I de- 
spise a man that exaggerates — a man that exaggerates is sim- 
ply a more or less good-natured non-malicious, but none the 
less, liar. So I shall recapitulate the countries in which 'S. T.' 
Ls covered by patents. The whole of Europe — down 
to so small a country as Belgium and Switzerland. All of 
South America. Central America, and Mexico — except Pat- 
agonia, where they produce ostriches — but not patents. In- 
dia, China and Japan. Xew Zealand. Australia and South 
Africa — winding up with Canada and the United States." 

Viola : "A comprehensive purview of the world, surely, 
my dear Hugh — it revives one's knowledge of geogi'aphy to 
gj over the list of 'S. T.' " 

Stutfield: "It sureh* does, my dearie. The handful of 
other stockholders were amazed at the scope, and the thou- 


sands of dollars it required yearly to keep patents alive 
throughout the world, but they were confident of my business 
judgment, and now are rewarded. Now, to wind up this un- 
usual interview, and go in to dinner. My reason for doing 
this extraordinary thing — ^bringing two and a quarter mil- 
lions in securities and cash to you by night, in a pair of sad- 
dle-bags, in Government bonds and bills — is briefly as follows. 
My property is divided into three divisions. When I say that I 
ignore for the moment the saddle-bags and their interesting 
contents. Division one is the largest. It lies in New York. 
In New York real estate — all on Manhattan Island, and all 
choice, picked parcels of land. There is but one exception to 
this — that is a 350 acre villa site on the Hudson, opposite the 
Catskills, in the township of Khinebeck. . The loveliest and 
lordliest view of mountain and river on earth — it dwarfs the 
magic Rhine even. That has no house but a farm-house on it. 
My father bought it years ago. All the rest of my property 
is on Manhattan Island. It amounts to one and a half mil- 
lion dollars. Of this, one million is in fee simple — is mine 
out and out. The balance is about half real estate and half 
gilt-edged securities — the balance is in trust, and, in the event 
of my death without issue, goes to my dearly beloved cousin, 
Winston Blettermole, the only relative I have. Division two 
and division three are almost exactly equal in value. Divi- 
sion two, consists of five hundred thousand dollars worth of 
real estate and water-power rights on the Roanoke river in 
eastern North Carolina. This is a property with an enor- 
mous prospective value when the South comes into her own — 
that is, becomes the cotton manufacturing centre of the 
United States. This place is the extreme northern limit of 
the cotton belt, so no one can cut in between us and the 
Northern markets. Also, besides having two competing rail- 
roads — the Atlantic Coast Line and the Seaboard Air Line — 
which salutary fact assures low freight rates — it is within 
five miles — five miles below us, on the Roanoke — of water 
transportation — on the Roanoke to Norfolk — via the Dismal 
Swamp canal — and thence to Europe. Cotton grows up to 
the very doors of the mills there, is ginned on the spot, and 
carried into the mills." 

Viola : "It must be a wonderful sight to see cotton first 


grow before your eyes, and then turn — before your eyes — into 

Stutfield : "It is highly interesting. But the great thing 
about it is the water power, which does away entirely with 
the necessity of coal; and besides saving an enormous num- 
ber of thousand dollars per annum in coal, puts the manu- 
facturers beyond the reach of slow delivery of coal, during 

Viola: "I had no idea you were such a variegated man 
of affairs, Hugh. I knew you were of professional, legal and 
literary, and publicist bent, but that you were a man of af- 
fairs of such world-wide scope, I had not the vaguest idea." 

Stutfield: "Very probably, my dear. I've alwaj^s kept 
my business affairs pretty strictly to myself. Lastly, Division 
Three consists of sound securities to the extent of half a mil- 
lion, tucked away in several large, deep, and commodious 
safe-deposit boxes, in the vaults of the leading trust company 
in Richmond. When I say gilt-edged, I desire to qualify that 
statement to the following extent. I do not mean high-priced 
securities, so near par or so far above it, as to loudly pro- 
claim that they have seen their best days, by which I mean 
their days of vigorous growth. In a word, securities which 
are now at — or about at — ^the top notch. I've no particle of 
use for such — no use on earth. Marshall Field — a merchant 
prince for whom I have a high regard, and whom I laiow 
personally — Marshall Field, of Chicago — than whom an hon- 
ester, 'whiter,' business man never breathed — quite different 
from certain other of our hundred million dollar million- 
aires — for that 's Marshall Field's figure — a hundred mil- 
lion — Marshall Field once said to me after dinner: 'Stutfield, 
the stocks you've just mentioned are too high-priced for me — 
I can't afford to buy them. I'm not a rich enough man to be 
able to afford to own such stocks. The stocks I buj^ are stocks 
that are sound, but are around thirty or thereabouts — have 
n^ver been any higher — and have, therefore some 'come out' 
to them — some growth — some development. Some day, they'll 
reach 75 or 100. Then I'll sell them and buy other stock at 
say thirty or thereabouts.' I took my cue from Marshall 
Field — and carefully invested half a million — taking several 
years to do it — in vigorous young stocks — so to speak — and 


therefore the half million in my vaults in Richmond, bids 
fair to be a million or more one of these days. That makes a 
million and a half in New York; a half million in North 
Carolina, and a half million in Richmond, Virginia — that 's 
two mllions and a half. Now we come to the milk in the 
cocoanut — the two and a quarter millions in these saddle- 
bags, and just why they are in these saddle-bags. Here 's 
the very simple — if very unusual reason, my darling. FOR 
REACH IT. The law is a queer thing. In the hands of 
learned and honest judges it is next to the actual personal 
presence of Jehovah — of God Almighty — on earth — for good,, 
for the good it brings about. But, on the other hand, with 
ignorant, self-indulgent, or dishonest judges, it is one of the 
crue.lest, wickedest and most Hellish instruments in the whole 
armoury of Hell. Now, when I met you on horseback yester- 
day afternoon — followed by your groom — you told me — in 
answer to my question — that you had a large safe of your 
very own — that no one but you knew the combination of, I 
mean — for the safekeeping of your splendid Stradivarius 
violin — upon which I desire to hear you play one of these 
days — for I heard in New York that your tone and execution 
are realty remarkable — quite professional, in fact — " 

Viola : "If that 's so, Hugh, it 's the result of my two 
years with Mamma and Papa in Paris, just before I came 
out — two years under the great French master Vieuxtemps." 

Stutfield: "I was told, my dearie, that it is literally 
true — that your playing has a passion and strength joined to 
a delicacy and feeling which appears to join the two sexes as 
you play, and give masculine force and feminine tenderness." 

Viola: "Again, I have only to say, my dear Hugh, if 
that is so — thank my great master." 

Stutfield : "To resume. Now I want to get into that big 
safe — not personally — but two million and a quarter of me — 
to do that, I shall have to ask you to take the Strad. out and 
sleep with it alongside you, so that in case of fire you can 
escape with it — that 's the only possible danger in this quiet, 

48 R O B B E R Y U X D E R L A W 

peaceful section of Virginia, not thieves but — and that dan- 
ger no greater than anvwhere else in the county — fire." 

Viola : '*I shall, with pleasure." 

Stutfield: "'Many thanks, indeed, my dear, for I know 
how you value that violin. Plere is my will and one or two 
other important papers in the same envelope. In my will I 
have left 3^ou the income of these two million and a quarter. 
The balance of my property — bar the half million in Xew 
York — goes to educational institutions when my estate 
vests, upon your death — that is to say — and another, who 
with you form what is called in Jaw the cestui quit rusts — the 
two people at whose death property left in trust vests or is 
turned over to the heirs. I want no receipt from you, my 
darling. I only want you to keep this money till I can have 
time to invest it in something in neither Xew York, Virginia, 
nor Xorth Carolina, so that I may have an entirely new set 
of courts ruling the money — for the judges are our rules — our 
modern kings, my dear, whatever fustian talk ignorant poli- 
ticians may vamp up about this being a Eepublic. The courts 
can defend or destroy your property and I want to have as 
large and varied a line of judges bossing my goods as my 
property is large and varied. Verhum sap. A word to the 

Viola: (Smiling). "You. a distinguished law-writer 
appear to look upon the judges much as a criminal might — 
you appear, my dear Hugh, to be afraid of them — " 

Stutfield: "Because as a law-writer I know their igno- 
rance, I am afraid of them, my darling — of their ignorance, 
their dishonesty, or their favoritism or prejudice. How many 
judges have a college education — it varys in different sec- 
tions. In Xew York, for instance — about 33 1-3 per cent., at 
a rough estimate I In other words an educated client or suitor 
'has to lay his case before an inferior "counsellor": or an in- 
ferior garbed in ermine and throned on a bench. Should said 
rule, developed further on; namely, that a judge must possess 
not only a College edu-cation, hui the only possible receipt — so 
to speak — for possessing same — to-irit — the degree of Bachelor 
of Arts — ever become general it will work havoc with such a 
college say as our own University of Virginia — founded by 
our own Albemarle Countv Thomas Jefferson himself I For in 


that splendid institution of learning the short-sighted, selfish 
and cruel rule exists by which every degree given by the Uni- 
versity is practically an honour degree — by which I mean 
the percentage required to get the degree is almost as great 
as the percentage required by such universities as Columbia 
and Harvard to obtain an honour degree. This is all wrong. 
There should be an honour degree and a degree for the gen- 
tleman of leisure or professional man not after honours, l)ut 
after a degree from his alma mater. The consequence is that 
the percentage of men who have matriculated at the Univer- 
sity of Virginia and get degrees is about the smallest in the 
country. The average student of the University of Virginia 
never dreams of taJdng a degree! If my rule comes to pass 
no lawyer would ever think of going to the University of Vir- 
ginia for a college education, but to the fine Colleges of Wil- 
liam and Mary, and Washington and Lee, of the same State. 
The term, 'learned judge' is in every sj^cophantic lawyer's 
mouth — and yet the infernal rascals know that they lie when 
they use the term — because why ? Because Judges are — bar the 
rarest exceptions — never learned— they are as ignorant of the 
law in the case as any shyster lawyer tbat ever bluffed a fee. 
Until what time? Why vrntil the lawyers have taught them 
what the law in each given case is — hy their opposing hriefs! 
The judge is a mere student^ a mere law-student to the law- 
yers who instruct his honour in the premises ! I'll tell 
you all that the so-called "learned judge" dwindles dow^n to — 
and that is a good guesser — the most respected judge among 
lawyers is he who can guess hest. The hest judge is the best 
guesser! The judge who oftenest guesses right which side 
has the law with them, — as shown by that side's lawyer's 
brief — is the most respected judge in the legal community's 
purview. The wise remarks you read in judges' opinions, as 
well as the learned cases cited, are l)odily copied verhatim from 
one or other of the lawyers^ 'briefs. This sounds strange but 
it is true. I am divulging a professional secret in lifting this 
sombre veil. No man should be elevated to the bench who 
has not received a college education from a reputable incor- 
porated college. Lawyers might be admitted to the bar on a 
mere common or high school education, but not so men who 
have the power of life or death, and the fearful responsibility 


of holding the scales governing property. These men should 
boast as fine an education as the civilization and culture of 
the nation affords." 

Viola : '*! thoroughly agree with you, Hugh." 

(Stutfield bows his acknowledgments). 

Stutfield: ''Any lawyer who ever hopes to qualify him- 
self for the august office of judge should be forced to acquire 
a college education — ^by which I mean the degree of Bache- 
lor of Arts. As aforesaid — as about at a rough guess — one- 
third of the legal profession have the bench as the goal of 
their professional ambitions, consequently^ about one-third 
of the legal profession of practicing lawyers will be well edu- 
cated — as well educated as their clients for instance! .V^ 
man could have a more profound admiration and respect for 
the mighty office of judge^ than ycnir devoted^ lover, my darl- 
ing — Jehovah Jah was a judge — Abraham that 'mighty man 
of valour' when pleading for the lost inliabitants of Sodom, 
exclaims: 'Shall not the judge of all the earth do right?' — or 
words to that effe'Ct. Jesus Christ was a lawyer. He is 
called 'Our Advocate with the Father.' or words to said ef- 
fect. As the Judaic law was a canon or religious law — the law 
of the Rabbis, the law of Moses — Christ in arguing with the 
Rabbis and Scribes, who were lawyers, had to he — and proved 
himself to be — a lawyer of the highest learning and dialectic 
and forensic skill. Therefore nothing could he higher than 
the august professions of Judge and Advocate. It is the 
damnable prostitution of these God-like offices to-day., which 
disgusts^ dismays and appalls me. Instead of a judge being 
selected because he towers above his brother lawyers for the 
logic displayed in his briefs, and the uprightness of his con- 
duct of a case — the absence of chicanery, mendacity, or as is 
but alas! too often the case — flat perjury upon the part of his 
witnesses industriously trained therein — after having heen 
deeply suborned — ^by himself — instead of that a judge is a 
'good fellow,' 'a good sort,' a 'popular' man in the profes- 
sion ; always kow-towing — as lawyers always do — to a brother 
lawyer, always hat in hand to one another, and always crawl- 
ing on their bellies to the court — to the judge — and cringing 
before him. Instead of being an honour to his profession the 
modern judge is but too often a man who stands in with the 


machine and has a powerful political pull — and stands in — in 
New York — with the malodorous boss of Tammany Hall ; who 
at a breath can unmake any judge of the New^ York Supreme 
Court, as by said bosses' breath said judge was made. It is 
this damnable state of things which makes me despair of the 
future of this country : and see our government burn up as a 
scroll in the fires of the Day of Doom. The people are grad- 
ually awaking to the chicanery, tyranny, and dishonesty of 
the bench ! "Labour, particularly, has it's 'red right eye' on the 
courts, and their iniquitous injunctions; and labour, will have 
to be reckoned with when the battle of Armageddon, for the 
United States, dawns. I am in favour of the initiative, refer- 
endum and recall of judges, but not of the recall of judicial de- 
cisions. Because law is as much above the heads of laymen — to 
steer a course safely and justly through — as is chemistry. We 
must always have judges, and the people cannot be judges as 
to reversing and recalling their decrees. Where would the 
right of life and of property go if a decision made one day, 
could be recalled by what amounts to a mob, — so far only as 
law is technically concerned — could be recalled by a mob — 
the next? No: Judges must be recalled for misconduct: but 
not their opinions. The subject of logic — which is the compass 
by which only a judge steers his course where two legal au- 
thorities conflict, where two decisions by former judges upon 
the point then up before him for decision conflict — the study 
of logic needs a national professional revival. Provided a 
judge is a sound logician — ^which means a man trained in the 
intricacies of the Aristotelean syllogism, which means again 
a college bred manf and a college bred man only — he can he 
almost infallihy trusted to give a just and learned decision. 
For the opposing lawyers have hunted up the law governing 
the case in their briefs. So all he has to do is to balance the au- 
thorities and see on which side the weight of authority lies 
and — where authorities conflict as aforesaid — steer his course 
by the compass — the pole star of the Aristotelian syllogism. 
There'^s no word in English oftener in a lawyer\^ or judge^s 
mouth than the word Hogic^'' than the words 'logical^'' '"illogi- 
cal^ '"fallacious^ '"fallacy'^ ! And yet there's no hook less often 

tA man possessing the degree of A. B. from an incorporated 


in the hands of judge or lawyer than a text hooh on logic! — 
by which alone the intricate rules of that mighty science may 
be kept fresh: by which rules alone the highest reasoning is 
guided and kept right: as the sextant guides the mariner hy 
showing the position of the sun. Logic to-day is a joke! a 
dead dog! a stinMng carcass floating doxrn a canal. Hence 
the damnably unjust, ignorant, and dishonest opinions of but 
too many of the judges of this fair land both State and Fed- 
eral. Logic should be revived as it was in the middle ages 
so that a judge may stand on his own feet when authorities 
conflict. Xo candidate for a judgeship should be permitted to 
mount the bench until he had proved himself by briefs of his 
in litigated cases, that he was a logican of the first rank — 
a7id the hurdeii of proof would he on him to show that he 
actually wrote each hrief. If an illogical, fallacious or ig- 
norant brief could be thrown up at him from the past years of 
his professional work it should dishench him. All briefs should 
be filed under control of a special court officer — that is to 
say — all those of lawyers who put themselves in line for ju- 
dicial honours — and upon these hriefs irould the professional 
record of the candidate for judicial preferment he hased. A 
crooked or fallacious brief would ipso facto disqualify him 
for the bench. He would have to draw his own hriefs and 
every hrief he had ever drawn vjould have to he filed, as well 
as the opponents' hnef ! Hal PTa ! My dearie, it makes me 
lausfh when I think of the wrv faces such a rule would cause 
among the suave followers of Ananias; who form so large 
a part of my august profession! ^Yhat a salutary effect it 
w.ould have upon hrief -drawing to know that the foul hirds 
of lying hriefs — of per jury -punctured hriefs — woidd surely 
come home to roost one of these days, inhen the question of 
the er?nine cam.e to he considered! Hence courts would scru- 
tinize briefs of noTi-candidates for the ermine, far more care- 
fully for lies, perjuries and follies than those of candidates- 
for-the-ermine. Gradually the people would get to employ 
candidates for the ermine — lawyers qualified to write 'C. F. E.' 
after their names — for the above reason — and so by the time 
the millenium dawns — we shall have in America, a highly 
educated, and. outwardly, at least, upright bar and ditto 


bench. If some such thing does not take phice, this coun- 
try will, — and will rightly — be placed forever under martial 
law, by the Military Dictator of the United States, which our 
aforesaid Armageddon is bound to produce. Who wouldn't 
rather have one hig Boss, one Oliver Cromwell — one grand 
Boss of genius — ^than the ten thousand vulgar-born, ignorant, 
piifling, plug-uglies that Boss the United States to-day? 
Pardon my professional zeal, darling — only a cl — n fool! 
Permit me to briefly enumerate our rulers. We have in every 
county in the United States to-day in the country: the Pre- 
cinct Boss, the District Boss, the County Boss. In the city the 
Ward Boss, the District Boss, the City Boss, the Boss. Finally : 
the State Boss! As Herbert Spencer said in effect, when he 
held the mirror up to the people of this great and mighty 
nation, on his recent visit to us of a quarter of a century ago, 
''a republic is the most ideal forrn of government., l)ut it is the 
most difficvit to live up to; for it expects every ^tnan to do his 
duty without coercion^ or the fear of deaths or jail before his 
eyes; and thafs something that the delectable race of Tnan 
flatly refuses to do. Hence, instead of being the best form, a 
republic is practically the foulest, most corrupt and tyranni- 
cal form of government possible. You know that it's a by- 
word for ingratitude!" 

Viola: "I sadly do, my dear Hugh." 

Stutfield: "You are an inspiring auditor — my darling — 
but I must hurry on. This question of reform of Bench and 
Bar is the question of the cancer eating the heart out of the 
country of Washington and eTohn Marshall. To resume and 
conclude. This is the motto of a Eepublic, 'Whafs every- 
body's business is nobody's business.'' So there you are. So 
after the rottenness which reeks to Heaven from the United 
States; has brought down the purifying flames that did the 
business for Sodom and Gomorrah — the two prototypes of 
the cities of New York, Chicago and Philadelphia — figura- 
tively speaking, all this, of course, regarding the flames — and 
the bloodiest revolution the world has ever seen has ensued 
between the forces of Labour on one hand, and Capital, sup- 
ported by the Bench, the Bar, and the Churches, on the other; 
in which Labour will eventually win. by means of the acces- 
sion to her side of the great mass of the people, who stand 


betwixt and bet^vei?n — and a compromise has resulted — not 
between Labour and Capital, far from it — that fights to a fin- 
ish. — but a compromise between Labour and the said vast body 
of neutrals. After the thunder, and the s/noke. and the hlood 
of the aforesaid Armageddon shall have cleared aicay 'a new 
heaven and a new earth' — again strictly figuratively — will 
appear; and the folly and vice^ now only too frequently en- 
throned on the Bench iciU l>e forever done away! Pardon 
the length of this dissertation, darling, but something solid 
was needed to support the e.xtraordinar-y speetacle of a law- 
writer's standing in dread and horror of the courts: and 
scheming to get as long a line of judges strung out along 
his property as might be ! In the desperate hcpe of finding a 
learned or an honest one — or — by a miracle almost — hoth — 
learned and honest — in the lot I"" 

Viola : "Br-r-r I My dear Hugh, you make me feel cold 
all over ! It's lil^e listening to a page from Carlyle's French 
Eevolution to hear you sum up the virtues of the American 
Bench and Bar." 

Stutfield: "I don't wonder at your chill. The French 
I^evolution is what is going to repeat itself in this country. 
/ am no prophet, but I am a student of history: and as such 
I judge the future by the past. Some duffers say. 'How can 
there be a revolution in a country where the majority rules?' 
The fools I That's just it. Suppose the majority is no larger 
than the — 'majority* that differentiated the followers of 
Eutherford B. Hayes and Samuel J. Tildenl And suppose 
the so-called minority prefers to fight — to remaining a tech- 
nical minority — what then \ Armageddon.'^ 

Viola: "You make me shiver, but I'm afraid you may 
be right." 

Stutfield : "Thank you. my darling, for giving me the 
benefit of the doubt. Xobody dislikes the idea of blood- 
shed, woimds and death more than your hiunble servant : but 
History shows that that is the 07'dy avenue possible to funda- 
mental political and judicial change. There are noble ex- 
ceptions to the dark rule I have laid down — exceptions 
among lawyers and exceptions among judges — but alas I my 
dearie — they are few and far. There are noble exceptions. 
hut they are few and far. To resmne and wind up. I may 



invest in a half dozen different States. No Virginia Judge — 
or any other judge, for that matter — can rule on these two 
million and a quarter I noAv hand you." 

(Kaises and hands saddle-bags to her). 

Stutfield : "For / no longer have them — you have it — but 
nobody does, or will, or can — since torture is abolished in 
court procedure — know that valuable fact. The future is 
ominous of war in my affairs. Blettermole lusts after my 
propert}^ only less fiercely than he does after my life. He 
actually hates me Avith a fifteenth century Benvenuto Cellini 
hatred — it's laughable, but a fact. I could never understand 
it — he's always attracted me — he's a charming man — super- 
ficially, at least — and goodness knows, I never injured him — 
one's not generally given to injuring people who are attract- 
ive to one." 

Viola: "I can unravel that mystery, my dear." 

Stutfield: '^Can you, darling? Well, you will set at 
rest a care that has been disturbing me for years and years." 

Viola: "You know, Constantia's almost my most inti- 
mate and beloved girl friend. She was in Paris finishing her 
musical education — you know she is a remarkably talented 
pianist — " 

Stutfield: "I do. But her playing to me is cold — fin- 
ished, but cold — like herself, in fact." 

Viola: "Well, Constantia attracted me by the extreme 
artistic, literary and musical bent of her really unusual mind 
— beside her refined and charming personality. I saw her 
constantly during those two years. We, with Papa and 
Mamma used to go to the Frangais every Saturday night^ — 
when the plays were not too dreadfully risque — other nights, 
we were at work on our instruments, she the piano, I the 
violin, for we each worked about eight hours a day except 
Saturdays and Sundays, during those two years — allowing 
two hours for outdoor exercise daily. The consequence was 
that when she married, she confided in me and I do not think 
I am betraying that confidence in saying what I am about 
to now. She said to me once: 'Viola, I am sometimes con- 
cerned about the hatred Winston has for Hugh Stutfield. It 
is the most intense and persistent thing in his cool, indiffer- 
ent, charming, inconsequential temperament. It's absolutely 


ferooious I I've questioned him. and questioned him upon it, 
but in vain. His answers are always unsatisfactory and 
vague. At last I am compelled to believe that it springs from 
jealousy — ^years ago. when they were boys at college — dif- 
ferent Colleges — diii'erent Universities — Hugh got in without 
conditions and achieved his college career and subsequent de- 
grees without one. although he had to work like a Trojan to 
do so — for the classics and mathematics always came hard 
to him. whereas Winston, who had a natural talent for lan- 
guages, and to whom mathematics came easier than to Hugh, 
got conditions upon entering Harvard, got new conditions 
each year he was there — and finally — in order to get rid 
of them, had actually to take ice years to complete the four 
years* course. This was a case of the hare and the tortoise. 
TVinston neglected his superior talents for languages, for 
Latin and Greek, as well as for algebra, geometry and trig- 
onometry, and suiiered severely thereby. Hugh Stutfield. on 
the other hand, toiled and won. Xow. strange as it may 
seem, this boyish incident has been the fons tt origo. the 
fountain and source of a gi^owing animosity in manhood's 

Stutfield: "Lord I Is tliaf the only reason for his Eenais- 
sance hatred of me. TTell. great oaks from little acorns spring 
sure enough. Xow. to conclude. Lawless desires my disap- 
pearance, owing to his being a suitor for your hand. Beli- 
sarius P. Spink knows more law than any man in the United 
States, and has less scruple than any lawyer, yet outside the 
bars. Behind Blettermole and Lawless are their millions, 
and behind their millions, is Belisarius P. Spink — like Beli- 
sarius of old — the great general of the Roman Emperor Jus- 
tinian — ready to lead their massed cohorts — their ready mil- 
lions — to any goal they may select. A powerful combina- 
tion — not to say. a dangerous one — you must admit." 

Viola: ''Hugh, you frighten me I" 

Stutfield: '"Do not be alarmed. I am my own Beli- 
sarius — my own lawyer — and 1*11 back myself against Spin^: 
or any other lawyer in or out of shoe leather. Serorid. I'm 
not a pauper by any means.*' (Kicking the saddle-bags). 
Third. I'm so near being a clairvoyant — a prophet in the 
modern sense — that there *s absolutely nothing funny in it. 


ni hack my Subconsciousness to warn me of all their damMa* 
hie plots in time to prepare against therrb, and — m the end — 
frustrate them. Now, my angel, will you take my will, my 
private papers, and my two million and a quarter, and prom- 
ise me that you will neither admit you have them, nor sur- 
render them to anyone without a written order from me?" 

Viola: "Certainly, Hugh, I will accept this grave re- 
Bponsibility if you desire it. Shall I inform my father?" 

Stutfield; "Not for the present. I have the highest re- 
gard for Captain Cariston's war record, and business record, 
»ince the war hy tohich he made half a million in a twenty 
years' exile in the wilds of West Virginia coal fields, exiling 
himself to that wilderness in order that you and your mother 
—his only kin — might live here at 'Elsinore' in comfort mean- 
while, and be independent for life at the end of his twenty 
years in Siberia. He achieved his end, and now has the 
sturdy sum of a round half million salted down, in improv- 
ing real estate in Richmond and Atlanta. But the very fact 
that he is such a sound and yet bold business man, makes me 
shy at putting him in touch with this highly unusual per- 
formance to-night." 

Viola: "As you prefer, Hugh, dear: it's true that he 
does not yet know of our engagement." (Smiling). "He has 
hardly had time to learn of it." 

Stutfield: "A thousand thanks. Then you promise me 
that you will neither admit you have my will, private papers, 
and two million and a quarter, nor surrender them to any- 
one without a written order from me?" 

Viola: "I do, Hugh. And now, one word with you. I 
have had a frightful dream. Last night I seemed to be stand- 
ing on the edge of a broad, moonlit stream with you at my 
side. A large, black, funereal looking barge draped in black, 
approached with three ancient woxuen — resembling the Three 
Fates, on the deck. Before them — facing you — ^^stood a man in 
antique armor. As the barge drew near a most terrific shout — 
as of a mighty host, smote the air, and the figure on the 
barge drew his sword and saluted you. I felt you straighten 
yourself. I then glanced at you, and found to my surprise, 
that you, too, were in antique Roman or Greek armor. So 
soon as the man saluted you, you returned his salute with 

dS K 3 E E R Y U X d e r l a w 

your sword : whereupon, a second appalling shout as of a 
mightT host, smote the air. The barge reached us. You 
turned and said: 'Viola. I go. but I return.' Thereupon, you 
mounted the deck, and disappeared. It frightened me hor- 
ribly — I'm not in the least superstitious and disbelieve in 
dreams: but I never had one so vivid as that." 

Stutfield: "My darling. I'm a fatalist. I believe that 
whatever is to be will be — to the fall of a cocl'-sparroio — *• 

Viola : "I share that belief, largely." 

Stutfield : "Let that belief buoy you. my darling, until 
we are one." (Embraces her). 

End of Act 11. 


Act III. Scene I. 

Stutfield's suite in the Hotel Kensington, 15th Street and 
Fifth Avenue. Stutfield in bed. Bed head to right of stage. 
Small room. Door to right leading into drawing-room. 
Door to left leading into bath room. Window at foot of bed. 
No fireplace in room — heated by a flue. Bureau between win- 
dow and bath-room door. Time, one month later, April il2th, 
1887, 6:30 P. M. Stutfield wears a green sack coat, though in 
bed, a curtain goes up, a man. Dr. Barkus, enters. Weather 
is cold. Backward spring, snow on the ground. Barkus above 
medium height, strongly knit. About 55, grayish hair, slight- 
ly bald. Sharp, keen face; very cold. Wears glasses. Light 
gray eyes, square cut beard, turning white. Stutfield is read- 
ing a morning paper as he enters. Barkus affects a solicitous 
air, and approaches bed with both hands extended and close 
together. He has black frock coat on — overcoat and hat left 
in drawing-room). 

Barkus : "Ah ! my dear Mr. Stutfield, I am so distressed 
to see you thus. I met Mr. Blight in the lobby on my way 
into the hotel, and he told me that you were ailing — " 

Stutfield: "Blight 's far too fresh. I've only got a 
slight cold, Doctor. The only reason I go to bed for a cold 
is that I inherit a tendency to pneumonia — both my Parents 
died of it, my Mother in perfect health, and with a magni- 
ficent constitution at thirty, and my Father ditto at fifty-two — 
within two years of her. I have lungs like one of my regis- 
tered Jersey bulls — ^but like my bull, am susceptible to pneu- 
monia — to the scourge o'f the strong up here in New York 
with its treacherous humid climate." 

Barkus: "You appear to be quite learned in the care of 
the human frame." 

Stutfield : "Oh ! I don't know — every man 's his own 
doctor or a fool at forty, you know — I'm just thirty, but I 
like to be ahead of the game in such an important factor in 
the game, as life and death." 


Barkus: (Frowning). "You can hardty expect a physi- 
cian to subscribe to that alleged maxim, Mr. Stutfield." 

Stutfield: "No, scarcely. You gentlemen would practi- 
cally starve to death if there were not so many millions of 
fools. For men and women under forty of normal health 
are rarely under the weather, whereas those over, you may 
almost say, are always so, now and then — to commit a bull — 
through their abominable, fool-carelessness. The average man 
takes more care of his horse or dog than of himself — and 
this through no spirit of unselfish devotion — far from it — 
but from a fool spirit of carelessness and laziness." 

Barkus: "Permit me to observe that you are somewhat 
severe upon your fellow man. But I am not here to bandy 
words with you. Sir." 

Stutfield: "You are very correct." 

Barkus: "Now our Oriental friend, Rumdumbagore, 
will ibe here shortly and prepared to assist at the proposed 
interesting experience of observing you enter a trance. Per- 
mit me to inquire your opinion on the distinguished Par see, 
Eumdumbagore ? " 

Stutfield : "To be perfectly frank, I think he's about the 
biggest faker I ever saw — his name should me Rumdum- 

Barkus: "Again, I must observe that you are some- 
what severe upon your fellowman." 

Stutfield: "Why, the jargon the man talks is enough to 
turn one against him. It sounds precisely as though he had 
spent a number of years in the French colony in McDougal 
Street, and caught the French way of pronouncing 'th' and 
saying 'zat' for 'that,' and had then gone to Mulberry Street 
and resided among our Italian citizens long enough to learn 
how to clip the end off of a word, as, for example, to clip 
^banana' into 'banan' and 'money' into 'mon'; and finally 
wound up in the neighborhood of Tattersall's, or some other 
horse-exchange and learned from the Cockney grooms how 
to decapitate the letter 'H'. " 

Barkus: "But, my dear Mr. Stutfield, I was at pains 
to inform you prior to the first two visits to you of Mr. Rum- 
dumbagore and myself, two or three days subsequent to 
your arrival here, about ten days ago from the South, with 


your intimate friend, Mr. Blight,— the distinguishtA^l New 
York sculptor, who suggested to you that you permit my- 
self, as a dabbler in oriental trances and trance-like states, 
and Mr. Rumdumbagore, who knows all about them — coming 
direct from India, to lecture upon that very subject before 
learned societies throughout the United States. Mr. 
Blight suggested that you permit us to observe you 
enter a trance, since he had walked in on you — as you were 
first learning how to do so at 'Rokeby' and suggested your 
coming on to New York and getting some Psychologist who 
was more familiar with trances and trance-like states than 
yourself, to advise with you about them, and act as your as- 
sistant in carrying on your most interesting investigations 
in this mysterious domain of the brain. Upon your con- 
senting to both Mr. Blight's propositions, I was introduced to 
you by him, and in turn introduced you to the distinguished 
Orientalist who expressed himself as interested in your inves- 
tigations, and willing to assist for one or two seances before 
leaving for Chicago to lecture before the faculty of the Uni- 
versity of that city — I was at pains to inform you. that Mr. 
Rumdumbagore had had the misfortune to be first initiated 
into the mysteries of English pronunciation — so difficult to 
the subtle oriental tongue — when a child in Bombay — by an 
Italian nurse who had married an Englishman, after being 
first divorced from a French dentist. The Englishman was 
not high type — he was a coachman and born within the sound 
of Bow bells — hence he hadn't an ^h' in his head. The re- 
sult is the unfortunate, somewhat polyglot patois, somewhat 
mixed accent of our distinguished friend." 

Stutfield: "Your explanation. Doctor, is as unusual as 
is the appearance, aspect, and actions of Brother Rumdum- 

Barkus: "You are as suspicious of men as most law- 
yers, my distinguished patient." 

Stutfield: "Permit me to observe that I'm not your pa- 
tient, nor am I suspicious bv nature. But I am not a damn 

Barkus: "Well, I hear his voice in the hallway, and 
shall usher him in." 

Stutfield: "Prav do." (So soon as the door is closed 


and he is alone, aloud, meditativelv). ''This is a very rum 
state of affairs here. I can't quite make it out. Blight has 
always been a close friend of mine and one in whom IVe al- 
ways had the utmost confidence. He walked in on me at 
'Rokeby' as Dr. Barkus remarked just as I was in the very 
act of pushing my investigations of intuitions into the trance 
form, mentioned in my last talk with Viola, as employed by 
trance-mediums or clairvoyants. Spiritualism I despise and 
utterly disbelieve in as the haunt of fakers and cheats, but 
undoubtedly the trance, or trance-like state is the work-shop 
in which to experiment in the mysteries of the human brain. 
For instance, hypnotism is the direct result of a state closely 
allied to that of the trance, but differs from it in that while 
consciousness is clouded or entirely submerged in the hyp- 
notic trance, in the mediumistic or clairvoyant-trance, noth- 
ing of the sort occurs. In a trance or trance-like state I am 
as normal and keenly alive as when eating breakfast. There- 
fore I am willing to go through the d — d bore of entering 
the trance or trance-like state before witnesses since my Sub- 
consciousness informs me that it will not operate the trance 
or trance-like state for me in relation to my business affairs 
unless I enter it twice before scientific men. Otherwise I 
cant get the Ijloomiiv perishiri trance to operate. For oper- 
ate it without the co-operation of one's Suh consciousness is an 
impossihility . Blettermole may be at the bottom of this. He 
is my inveterate enemy, and would stop at nothing. What 
his object can be. I fail to see, but I shall without hesitation 
allow him all the scope he wants, for I understand that this 
is a law-abiding community — this fair City of Xew York — 
and therefore the law can redress any injuries I may sustain 
in pushing legitimate, scientific experiments to a conclusion." 
(Enter Dr. Barkus and Rumdumbagore. The latter is a 
tall, stout man, dressed in a black frcck coat, waistcoat and 
trousers, high collar and dark fcur-in-hand tie. The only 
thing out of the way about his costume is a turban, of large 
dimensions, and snowy whiteness, wound round the top of 
his head. His skin is a dark olive, and he wears a heavy black 
moustache. His motions are slow and pompous and so is his 
intonation. He bows with oriental depth to Stutfield stand- 


ing on the threshold, bringing both pahns towards his mid- 
dle. Stutfield carelessly returns the salute and says) : 

Stutfield^' 'Day, gentlemen." 

Rumdumbagore : " 'Ow does my young frien' find he- 
self to-da}^? I trus' zat ze indisposish' is not acute?" 

Stutfield: (Smiling pleasantly). "No, 'ze indispozish 
it not acute — " 

Rumdumbagore : "Ah ! My young frien' mock me." 

Stutfield: "Your young 'frien' is tickled to death over 
your accent, my learned Sir — 'zat's all — ^2at''s allP 

Barlms: "Mr. Stutfield, we will proceed to go into the 
trance, if you please, and cut short this unseemty ridicule of 
my learned friend who suffers through no fault of his own — " 

Stutfield: "No, by Jove, it was no fault of his own, but 
of that much married Italian-French- Cockney- English nurse 
—eh ?" 

Barkus: "I heg of you to proceed to enter the trance." 

Stutfield: "Very well, Doctor. But I should very much 
like to know why our learned friend wears that turban on his 
head, right here in New York." 

Barkus: "Mr. Rumdumbagore is a very devout follower 
of his cult — fire-worshipping — the Parsees, you know, are 
Persian Fire-worshippers — refugees — who, centuries ago, 
were expelled from their native land by the sword of the 
Prophet — the conquering Mahommedan — and sought and ob- 
tained asylum in India. They worship fire still. Now as to 
just why he wears a turban here in New York. Mr. Rum- 
dumbagore is under a vow — he is as a very devout Parsee — 
never to appear in public Without a turban — no matter v^here 
he may he — until India is rid of British rule." 

Stutfield : "Ah ! ha ! A patriot. I had no least inkling 
that so rare a fire as unselfish, unpolitical patriotism burned 
within that brawny bosom. Now for the experiment. What 
goes on inside the head during a trance — hoio it is operated — 
is shrouded in m/ystery so far as Science knows at present — 
a^ deeply shrouded as the nature of electricity or the cause 
of the X-ray — outwardly, however nothing could be simpler. 
You cannot detect the slightest difference in me physically 
when in a trance, or when out of a trance — except in my 
language. I need not warn scientists of your standing that 


I am no more responsible for trance-utterances than for sleep- 
talk — talking in my sleep — to which it is closely allied — all 
trances heing merely a forra of somnanihidis?n or sleep-walk- 
ing. The first hint I gave of being what is vulgarly called a 
medium was when I was a child, by sleep-walking. That has 
passed off with the lapse of time and taken on the rarer phase 
of trances and trance-like states. From the moment I say: 
'Here goes I' Iiii wholly irresponsible for my utterances. 
'Here goes I' 'Hugh Stutfield, you are in the hands of the 
Philistines. These hoary old rogues are bought, body and 
soul, by certain persons. Who or what said persons are I re- 
fuse to say. But be not concerned. Your destiny — like that 
of every man, woman and child on earth was fore-ordained 
from the beginning. Xothing these two bloody-minded, soul- 
less, sordid, old reprobates can do or say can alter or change 
your destiny one jot or' tittle — they are necessary that your 
destiny may he fulfilled. Proceed as though they did not 
exist, and know that in the end you will triumph over these 
two disgraces to the medical profession — to the noble Art of 
Healing, and those back of them. I say no more. Farewell.' 
Well, gentlemen, what do you think of the trance?" 

Barkus : "Infamous ! Infamous I The most absurd and 
slanderous utterance I ever heard." 

Eumdumbagore : ''My young frien* it grieve my *eart 
to 'ear you zay zuch zings — it grieve my 'eart. But in my 
'eart — ze deep warm 'eart of an Oriental — I know it is not 
you zat zay zuch zings — it is not you but ze trance, ze trance. 
Zo nudding 'ard, no 'ard veeling rests in my great warm 
Oriental 'eart towards zee, towards zee. My young frien', I 
take my leave. May ze spirit of ze great founder of our 
Faith, Zoroaster, ze great Zarathustra 'imzely. who shed ze 
light of his countenance over ze land of ze Medes and Per- 
sians one thousand years before ze Christian era, watch over 
and guard your steps in zis wicked but populous city." 

Stutfield: "Amen to that, my learned fire-eater — beg 
pardon — fire- worshipper — Amen to that." 

(With a profound salaam Eumdumbagore leaves, fol- 
lowed by Barkus, who merely bows slightly. The door has 
hardly closed before heavy footsteps are heard in the hall- 


way, and there is a loud knock at the door of Stutfield's 

Stiitfield: ''Come in." 

(The door opens and Barkus and Rumdumbagore ap- 
pear at the head of three burly, rough looking men). 

Barkus: "You must get up. Resistance is useless as 
you see, and dress and follow me. You are insane." 

Stutfield: (With a sarcastic smile). "On what 

Barkus: "On the grounds of what you said when in a 
trance, or trance-like state just now." 

Stutfield: "But I was at pains to explain to you, only 
a few minutes ago, that that was not my mentality talking, 
but my Subconsciousness." 

Barkus: "I'm quite well aware of that." 

Stutfield: "Who's back of these proceedings?" 

Barlms: "Mr. Winston Blettermole and Mr. James 

Stutfield: "Ah! My two worst enemies. Well, gentle- 
men, what do you propose to do about it?" 

Barkus: '''Propose to do? Why, that you obey my or- 

Stutfield: "You haven't brought enough men with you, 

Barkus: '''Seize himP'' 

(The men dash towards Stutfield. There is a small table 
with a pile of large, heavy books on it at his bedhead, which 
prevents direct attack, so they come round that and are about 
to spring upon him — the head of the bed is towards the door 
of the drawing-room — when Stutfield whips out a revolver 
from under his pillow and says sharply) : 

Stutfield: "Hands up, you blackguards, hands up!" 

(The roughs at once obey. Barlms and Rumdumbagore, 
who are standing at the foot of the bed, shrink away from 
the pistol). 

Stutfield: "Now then, you bloody villains — you East 
Side thuofs and mid-night assassins, make tracks out of here 
or I'll fill you full of lead." 

(It is now dark and the electric light has been turned on 
for some time. The roughs leave hurriedly). 


Stutfield: "Now then you two promising specimens of 
medical rascality — for of course, you're a brace of alienists 
in disguise, lying as fast as you can open your dirty mouths — 
now then, you two apostles of perjury and crime, why 
shouldn't I put a bullet into each of you and rid the world of 
two such human hyenas? Come — pull yourselves together 
and answer me that. First throw up your hands — ^you, too, 

Barkus: (Clearing his throat and showing all signs of 
fear after swiftly throwing up his hands — Rumdumbagore 
does the same). "I trust, my dear Mr. Stutfield, that you 
will not take any unfair advantage of me." 

Stutfield: "No, I never take an unfair advantage of 
any man. But I shall particularly well see to it that you 
don't succeed in taking an unfair advantage of me. I'd have 
you understand that I hold a license to carry a pistol in New 

Barkus: "What are you willing to do?" 

Stutfield : "I am willing to discuss this interesting situ- 
ation with you to-morrow, say, at 3 P. M." 

Barkus: "But how do I know that you're not going to 
run away?" 

Stutfield : (Bursting out laughing) . "Eun away ! That's 
something I'm not in the habit of doing." 

Barkus: "In that event, I'll be very glad to meet you 
to-morrow at 3 P. M." 

Stutfield: "So be it. And now you may permit your 
hands to assume a normal position, and retire." 

(Both leave rather hurriedly. As soon as the door 
closes) — 

Stutfield: "Well, here's a how de do, sure enough! 
Viola's dream has come true!" 

End of Act III. Scene I. 



Act III. Scene II. 

Time: Three months later. July 12th, 1887, 4 P. M. 

(Stiitfield's cell in 'Fairdale.' A dark, gloomy, small 
room with heavily-barred, small windows. Room scantily and 
barely furnished. An engraving or two on the wall; a small 
dressing-table with mirror, washstand, and some common 
chairs. Stutfield in bed, dressed in a striped blue and white 
flannel outing jacket, over a silk gauze undershirt. 
The bed is brown wood, and has a canopy over it in 
the shape of a mosquito-netting on four slender rods. By 
his bedhead is a table, covered with ponderous books. He has 
just finished a letter as the curtain rises. There are two 
doors to the cell; one leading to his keeper's adjoining cell, 
and one to a bath-room. He begins to read the letter he has 
just written in blue pencil) — 

Stutfield: (Reading hastily, and with frequent glances at 
the door). "My own darling Viola: It seems ages since I've 
seen your sweet face, and heard your silvery voice, buried 
alive as I have been for a quarter of a year amid dangerous 
lunatics, even maniacs. This is how it all happened. Blet- 
termole and Lawless put their heads together, and one as my 
nearest blood relation, and the other as my 'best friend' signed 
and swore to a petition saying that I was insane, and dan- 
gerously so. They were evidently steered by Belisarius P. 
Spink, who is the lawyer of both Blettermole and Lawless, 
for the game has been worked to the Queen's taste from the 
start — not a blunder anywhere except that crime is always 
a blunder in the long run, and both Lawless and Blettermole 
have rendered themselves liable to a term at hard labor at 
Sing Sing for perjury. So far, so good. Now I shall de- 
scribe how I come to be here, flat on my back. Before doing 
so, knowing your sweet solicitude for my health, I shall 
touch briefly upon that. I never was better in my life. I 
once overworked and consulted a specialist on overwork and 
the preventive and cure thereof. He said: 'Lie down for 


twenty-two hourg out of the twenty-four and rest your spine, 
which )H the trunk-line of the nervous system, and exercise 
for the other two hours not severely, but lightly — even for 
much less than two hours if you feel disinclined for any 
cause not slothful irj it-- origin.' So I stay in bed. for 
twenty-two hours out of the twenty-four. 1 even take my 
three meals in bed, and then walk for the greater part of 
two hours — this walk is, of course, with a strapping six-f^ot, 
fighting- Irish keeper — come in, bathe, and go back to bed. 
1 sleep for at least nine hours. The balance of the time I 
(:('p rny rriind constantly f^ccupied fry reading five daily Xew 
York moinirjg papers, and two daily evening papers from 
first page to last, including the most amusing of the ads. 
n.ji'\ }.'>in<- of the. u(\h. are distinctly amusing. I find that 
fi(>tJ))rj;/ t;ikfs (/nc r>ut of oneself so easily, so without effort of 
thoij//}it or brain work of any description, as newspaper 
rcu<]\r\f/. It r Ii.kf' cjifiD:/ thf- \]'i\ii<-\. flimsiest kind of pastry 
Hi f>h»ce of solid fr>orj. I <\<) rjot laitr to the editorials when 
T say no effort of tfiouj/ht or f^rain is needed to master the 
^ofiNrit, f,f ji fi<wspaper. Editorials do necessarily excite 
thfHjgiit— tfie only qiif'tion is as to the nature of the thought 
thus excited. 1 fir)'l tli;it in the vast majority of cases the 
ri;ifijrf of Ifif fhon^'ht thus exciterl is jirniisfjrncjjt. Hut amuse- 
rncjit is ♦•nli vcriinf/ uixl restful for thf' linrrKin rniiid in the 
extraordifisi ry situation in vvhirfi I find ruysclf. look(;d upon 
and treated .'ind ' [jo!(<ri of to my fnce as being a hopelessly 
insane (laf)gcrfn)s maninr! I often wonder if I am not dream- 
ing, and pi Tiff I myself until T am convin<"ed that I am awake. 
So you s("', Mnydiinj/ tli;i( cuu ministfr to a, mind so situ- 
at^'d is surely lo be fdassed with f)oppy and mandragoran and 
'all the drowsy syrups of the Kast' as a first aid to the in- 
jured l)V IIk- ill('j/;il Mfid vifious laws of this gj'cat State, 
toufhirig luruicy f)r-f>redure. Yom know, my darling, that my 
Mother was born and bn'd in New York, and that T was 
raised here, and largely cflnr'itcd here, therefore it is ruitural 
that 1 shoidd feel the sti'on'^ affection for this great and 
beauliful city which I do. It is not with the people of New 
York City or N<'w ^'ork State I have a. (|uarrel on account 
of tJiesc, lunaey hiws, but with ttu^ rich rascals high in the 
counsels of the Four Ilundr-ed, wdio uuike money out of 


them. Xow you are prepared to hear how I came here. First 
and foremost, I desire to state, my precious darling, that it 
is through no lack of strategy or generalship upon my part 
that I am here. I had the situation entirely in my hand in 
New York, from the simple fact that I had had the foresight 
to make use of my license, to carry a revovlver in New York, 
by having it under my pillow when they tried to overpower 
me by sending three strong-arm men into my room at the 
'Kensington' after dark to carry me off. There was a sinis- 
ter purpose lurking behind the act, namely, their desire to 
make me catch my death of cold by hauling me out of a sick 
bed to dress and take a cold drive in a cab to the train, and 
a colder one after the hof train from the AAliite Plains sta- 
tion here, there being snow on the ground. But I decided to. 
so to speak, go as a lamb to the slaughter, or to play detective, 
and get an insight into the working of this gilded Hell, 
'Fairdale.' from the inside, in order that I may devote my 
life to wiping infamous lunacy laws off of the statute books 
of about half of the States and Territories of the Union, 
founded by George Washington and safeguarded by Abra- 
ham Lincoln. That was my wish and aim in risking my life 
coming here. For I could easily have walked down the fire- 
escape from my window and got away, had I cared to do so. 
But liberty to me is as sweet as life and I am willing to risk 
my life to insure liberty for the rest of my countrymen and 
country-women unable to fight for it in this labyrinth from 
the fact that they are not professional fighters — that is to say, 
lawyers. Now. I shall wind this long letter up by saying that 
it will be handed Captain Cariston — addressed to him — by a 
man I have complete confidence in, the inventor of the Self- 
Threading Sewing Machine Attachment, that brought me so 
much mone}^ — his name is Albert Wedge. He is still in my 
employ because I promised to support him for life, so soon 
as I sold the mechanism. I promised him twenty-five hun- 
dred dollars a year for life, besides a present of twenty thou- 
sand dollars. I have had no chance to pay him more than a 
portion of the first year's allowance. He is let though the 
lines here because before surrendering to the police they sent 
to take me next day from the "Kensington" — Barlms, one of 
the doctors in the plot lied and broke his word and instead of 


coming sent a brace of plain-clothesmen from police head- 
quarters in Mulberr}^ street — I had sent a wire to AVedge at 
his place at Allentown, New Jerse}^ to come in the first thing 
in the morning. This Wedge promptly did. Whereupon I 
told him the situation and that if he ever expected to put 
his hands on that twenty thousand dollars he must co-operate 
with me, and get me a lawyer to bring habeas corpus pro- 
ceedings to get me out. Well, my dear, what do you sup- 
pose. Wedge — supported by full credentials from me — has 
been utterly unable to get a solitary Xew York lawyer to 
take my case and bring the habeas corpus proceedings ! They 
hem and haw but do nothing. The authorities here know 
that Wedge ma}^ tvj to get counsel for me, but will you be- 
lieve it, so sure are they of their position that they are in- 
different, knowing that he will not be able to get a lawyer in 
New York with the courage to take my case. They hold 
back for three reasons. First: Because of the old maxim, 
*Give a dog a bad name and hang him.' Being once inside a 
madhouse I am supposed by the intelligent public to be mad. 
No matter what crimes and villainies were perpetrated to 
falsely put me there. Second: New York lawyers shy at 
the case because of fear of Blettermole and Lawless. Bletter- 
mole is a millionaire several times over, and Lawless is a 
multi-millionaire — has at least seven millions at a safe esti- 
mate. They are afraid of the serried ten millions opposed to 
me. Third: New York lawyers shy at the case because 
they are afraid of antagonizing the powerful array of pluto- 
crats on the Board of Governors as it is popularly termed 
of this Bastile of the Four Hundred, where is buried alive 
for life any member of the Four Hundred who has had a 
falling out with his family or next of kin. The most power- 
ful men in Finance, Law and Society are gathered together on 
the Board of this private insane asylum in order to overawe 
the New York County Bar. So here is what I propose to do. 
Wedge is absolutely devoted to my interest. He is a bachelor 
alone in the world and entirely dependent upon me for the 
means to carry on his experiments — for like all inventors, he 
is never happy except when inventing. So he is willing to risk 
State's Prison to get me out of here. I am willing to risk my 
life to get out of here, and here is what I propose. Wedge 


comes up about once a fortnight. He is due to-day. I'll give 
him this. He has money enough to pay his way to Virginia. 
So soon as you have read this letter, read it to your Father. 
I am enclosing this sealed and addressed to you in one to 
Captain Cariston, briefly stating that the bearer is an in- 
ventor in my employ and patentee of the Self Threading 
Sewing Machine Attachment — and has access to me — is thor- 
oughly trustworthy and able to shed light on my present 
predicament. Then, please ask him to do as follows. I do 
not intend to stay here until I go crazy from my health break- 
ing down. I'd much prefer to die with my boots on attempt- 
ing — like an American citizen worthy the name of an Ameri- 
can citizen — to escape. Or if I should be forced to kill a 
keeper in my dash for liberty, and the jury went back on 
American love of freedom and sent me to the electric chair, I 
would much prefer that quick and easy death to lingering 
here for years. There is no warrant in law for this out- 
rage against an American citizen. Now a man would be per- 
fectly justified in killing a 'black-hander' who held him in 
perpetual life imprisonment — as I am being illegally held for 
a five thousand two hundred dollar yearly ransom — not 
counting extras — and making his escape. Further argument 
in support of my contention would be a work of supereroga- 
tion. I hope and believe it will be unnecessary to put Pat 
Sligo out of business permanently, but the Law-Giver, Moses 
himself had less warrant in law or equity — I highly approve 
of Moses's noble act, mind you — ^but Moses the Law-Giver 
had less warrant in law and equity for killing that Egyptian 
task-master than I would have in killing Pat Sligo when he 
bars with his bulky carcass my road to freedom — and any 
American who disagrees with that sentiment is unworthy of 
the spirit of the founders of this mighty Republic. ''Blood 
will tell^ is an old and true maxinh. My hlood is Revolution- 
ary to the last drop. I am related by blood to three lead- 
ing Generals in the Revolution. First: General Nathaniel 
Greene — the second greatest General on the American side 
after Washington. Second: General Marion, of South 
Carolina, known as the 'Swamp Fox.' Third: General 
John Armstrong, author of the "Newburgh Letters." Not only 
American Revolutionary blood runs in my veins, but French 


Revolutionary blood — I'm not descended from her — for she 
died a maid on the scaffold — under the guillotine — ^but I am re- 
lated by blood to Charlotte de Corday, the slayer of one of 
the bloodiest villains who ever disgraced the earth, namely, 
Marat, of the Bloody Triumverate, Danton, Robespierre and 
Marat. Now you way well imagine how such blood would 
brook such treatment as I have received for three months, and 
am intended to receive for life. As Charlotte de Corday 
struck a blow that forever freed France from Marat with a 
simplr .inner knife, so I propose to strike a blow that shall 
forever free lunacy legislation in the United States of the 
crime masquerading under the guise of law therein. The 
blow possibly may land me on the scaffold as it did her, but 
not if American Judges and American Juries have a spark 
of the spirit of '76 in their veins. But, however, that may 
be, whether 1 mount the scaffold or not, lunacy law will be 
brought before the rulers of this country — the people — in a 
way so plain and striking that they will be more than apt — 
speaking guardedly — to set their house in order and give a 
man^ accused of lunacy as fair a rmn for his rn,oney^ as fair a 
trial hefore a Judge and Jury in open Court as is now given a 
man accursed, of hurgla^y^ rape^ or murder. I dislike to go 
over such gruesome things with you, but it is essentially neces- 
sary for you and Captain Cariston to know just what I am 
prepared to do in the event of your not rescuing me. I have 
the means of killing the brawniest, bravest keeper in 'Fair- 
dale' — on me now — it 's always on me when I have my jacket 
on — and otherwise it 's always within arm's reach, in the right 
hand pocket of my sack coat, folded up on a chair by the 
head of my bed, and between it and the wall. This is some- 
thing as Providentially mine) as was the jaw bone found by 
Sampson, for I picked this up one day when walking with 
my keeper. This something is a horse-shoe. I picked it up 
this way. I spied it ahead of us. He did not. So I dropped 
slightly behind as we approached the horse-shoe and swiftly 
stooped and slipped it into my right-hand sack coat pock,et 
without his noticing me. It is wrapped up — I washed it in 
my bath tub at night, after he'd gone to bed, and I heard 
him snoring in the next cell — which opens into mine — it is 
wrapped up in a handkerchief to hide it. Now with this, I 


could first break the leg, and, as lie fell forward, fracture the 
skull of any man that ever lived, including Goliath of Gath. 
So you see that even here — in the jaws of death and Hell — I 
am not so helpless as I might appear on a cursory view. 
Now I don't want to make anybody die a violent death nor do 
I care to. So I shall not draw my horse-shoe and 'Strike for 
your altars and your fires. Strike for the green graves of your 
Sires, God and your native land,' as Fitz-Green Halleck puts 
it in 'Marco Bozzaris' unless you, my sweetheart, through 
3^our gallant father are unable to rescue me. So here goes for 
the plan of campaign to culminate in my gaol-delivery. Put 
him in touch with everything I've told you — and my being se- 
cretly engaged to you, and also that you hold certain funds of 
mine. Then give him enough money out of the war-chest to 
cover the following items: Twenty-fiA-e hundred dollars for 
Wedge. Twentj^-five hundred dollars each for three ex-Con- 
federate veterans not too old to shoot straight, with the prom- 
ise that upon placing me upon Virginia soil the amount will 
be doubled. Twelve hundred and fifty dollars for the owner 
of a Norfolk, Virginia, ocean-going-tug, with the promise 
that the amount will be doubled upon his return with me, 
dead or alive, to any point on the Virginia coast. Twenty- 
five hundred dollars for a Connecticut farmer — just over the 
line from Westchester County in which White Plains is — who 
is a boyhood-friend of Wedge, and is well to do, and often has 
Wedge to spend the summer with him free of charge. This 
man is of old Revolutionary stock — is a descendant, on the 
female side, of General Israel Putnam of Revolutionary fame 
— 'Old Put,' as he was affectionately dubbed by his troops — and 
is py^oud of it. He is outraged at my predicament and has 
pledged himself to transport any four men I bring to New 
Rochelle — just opposite here, on Long Island Sound — to- 
gether with Wedge and myself, in a light, closed, three-seated 
wagon — closed by curtains only — so as not to attract attention 
by the crowd — behind a pair of powerful seventeen and a half 
hand standard bred trotting stallions, that he has so broken 
that they travel amicably in harness, inside half an hour 
from the boundary wall of 'Fairdale,' on the Marmaroneck 
Avenue road, a beautiful stretch of eight miles of macadam- 
ized road running flat as a plate from 'Fairdale' to Lono* 


Island Sound — he has pledged himself — or forfeit the prize- 
money of twentj^-fiYe hundred dollars — to do this inside thirty 
minutes. Xoay I propose that the Captain lead this rescue 
party himself. He was Captain of Squadron A, First Vir- 
ginia Cavalry, in the Army of Northern Virginia, under 
Stuart. Let him pick three of his most dare-devil troopers 
and lead them to the charge against the trespassers on the 
rights of a Virginia citizen. Once we get into the wagon we 
are safe, for nothing can touch us. There 's no car line of 
any kind along Marmaroneck Avenue and so nothing can 
touch us, or head us. Xow here is how I propose to join 
forces with your father. Wedge will act as scout to your 
father and his men from the time they disembark from the 
ocean-going-tug off Xew Rochelle, and enter the closed 
wagon, till the time we join forces; so I need say no more, as 
I shall put him — Wedge — au courant Avith what a certain 
deeply devout, fire-worshipping friend of mine— of whom 
a whole lot anon — when I have you in my arms once 
more, my precious darling, after this cruel war is over — your 
dream you see^ came true^ and I now am, atout to return to 
you — Wedge will to-day be put au courant with what a pro- 
foundly learned and deeply pious fire-worshipper I know, 
would term 'the situaish.* N. B. — Ask your father to have 
half a dozen Winchester rifles and plenty of ammunition on 
board in case we should be held up by a police boat when 
passing New York. It 's not likely that that will happen, 
but I take no chances in war. Also be sure that each of his 
men has on a belt of cartridges and a forty-four Colt re- 
volver — not in view of course — and to bring me mine — the 
ivory-handled forty-four at the head of my bed at 'Rokeby,' 
with its belt of cartridges. The chances are a hundred to one 
against a contretemps — against blood-shed — once I join forces 
with the rescuing party. I propose to put my husky keeper, 
Pat Sligo — a six-foot, one hundred and ninety pound Hiber- 
nian, down and out. in the lonely wood at 'Fairdale,' whither 
I shall invite him to escort me on a walk. I shall not by 
any means kill him, or use the horseshoe at all — though I 
shall haA^e it as cA^er in my pocket — but I shall put him down 
and out, and then join the rescuers on the edge of the Avood. 
As a matter of pride I propose to leave no more trace — no 


more trail — after putting Pat Sligo down and out — no more 
clue to the direction of my change of base — than if the earth 
had swallowed me. As I have shown, I come of a long line 
of military ancestors — and the only reason I didn't enter the 
army was because there was no prospect of vrar in m}^ time, 
hence my remark about its being a matter of pride — military 
pride — soldierly self-respect — to leave no more trace of my 
change of base than if the earth had swallowed me. Also, it 
might make it disagreeable for the Connecticut farmer if it 
got out that he aided in the escape. He is not a resident of 
Xew York nor a citizen of Xew York — since he is both of 
Connecticut, but the local authorities might trump up — or 
attempt to trump up — trouble for him the next time he 
crossed the New York State line. It would, of course, be im- 
possible to achieve this desired end of complete mystery re- 
garding my movements South in any other way than I have 
outlined — namely, my personally putting — unaided, unwit- 
nessed, and alone — Pat Sligo down and out. Naturally I 
would prefer the dramatic coup of having the Captain ap- 
pear, accompanied by his men, who would, at a word from 
him, draw and hold him up. But tempting as that is to my 
dramatic sense it is utterly out of the question and not to 
be considered for a moment — for reasons stated. I propose 
about three weeks from now, as the time for pulling off the 
big event. Till then, may God bless and comfort you, my 
sweet child, and prosper our plans and thwart those of the 

Your devoted 

Stutfield: (Sealing the addressed envelope into which 
he has put the letter). "Phew! The longest letter I ever 
wTote, I verily believe." 

(Noise of voices approaching. Stutfield hastily conceals 
the letter in his inside coat pocket. The door of the next cell 
opens and Albert Wedge enters, followed by Pat Sligo. 
Wedge is a small, thin man, with a sharp, shrewd, face, clean- 
shaved — ^honest-looking with his shrewdness — and neatly 
dressed. He has a way of turning his head on one side when 
listening to a person, and before replying to a question de- 
manding any thought he expels his breath violently and pre- 


faces all his remarks with '^Well^ I don't know!" or ^^Wellf 
That may be !" or ^'Wellf Let me see !*' He expels his breath on 
the word, "TF^ZZ." Sligo is a powerful, forbidding-looking 
Irishman with beetling brows. His head is bullet-shaped, and 
hair cropped short like a convict's. He has a short, thick 
neck. He is dressed in the regulation 'Fairdale' uniform, 
dark navy blue suit with brass buttons. He swings the door 
open with a flourish and says in low gutteral tones) : 

Sligo : "Walk in.'' 

(Sligo glares at Stutfield sullenly. Stutfield looks at 
him carelessly and says) : 

Stutfield": "Ah, Pat!" 

(Sligo merely growls and says nothing. He goes out, 
slamming the door after him. Stutfield smiles significantly 
as he watches Sligo disappear, and then turns to Wedge and 
says) : 

Stutfield: "Have a chair. Wedge." 

(Wedge seats him.self. Stutfield then pulls out the let- 
ter and says in a low voice : Stage Direction — Stutfield speaks 
rapidly all through this scene loith frequent glances at the 
door of Sligo's cell). 

Stutfield: "For Captain Cariston. 'Elsinore,' Cobham. 
Va. — on the Chesapeake & Ohio Eailway, ten hours from Xew 
York, Wedge. You are to please start at once. You need not 
remain at 'Elsinore' more than a few hours. Your train 
leaves Jersey City at eight A. M., and reaches Cobham at 
about six P. M. Send the following wire the night before 
you start — to-night, that is — I presume you can get off to- 
morrow — " 

Wedge: (lin a low voice as he pockets the letter). 
"Ye-e-s. I did want to take about a week to work round a 
snag that 's turned up in my patent hydraulic pump — " 

Stutfield : "Of course, you did, my good Wedge — and of 
course, you ever will — if it isn't one thing it's another with 
you artists and poets in power and steel and electricity — you 
inventors — but, my good friend, Wedge, if you don't get my 
affairs started, you'll run out of money — the last quarterly 
payment I made you on your allowance is pretty nearly used 
up, I should say — what ?" 


Wedge: ^"Well! Come to think on 't, yes, His. Pll start 

Stutfield: "Good. Send this wire on reaching New 
York, fro7n New York — not Allendale: 'Captain Cariston, 
'Elsinore', Cobham, Va. Shall arrive for a few hours at six 
to-morrow. Please have me met. (Signed) A friend of H. 
S.' I'll write it out for you." (Does so, and hands it to 
Wedge, who, after scrutinizing it, carefully pockets it). 

Stutfield: "Can you make it out?" 

Wedge: ''Well! Yes, I guess so." 

Stutfield: "Good. Now pay strict attention to what 1 
am about to say. I am going to clinch with that offer of 
your Connecticut farmer friend — General Israel Putnam's de- 
scendant — and promise him twenty-five hundred dollars for 
meeting my party of rescuers at New Rochelle and driving 
them to the Marmaroneck side of 'Fairdale,' and waiting for 
them on the edge of the 'Fairdale' wood, and then driving 
them back to whence they came. He will receive half of that 
sum the moment the Captain and his men enter the wagon, and 
the balance just before they leave it with me, on the edge of 
Long Island Sound. Then he can make tracks for the Con- 
necticut line. An ocean-going tug will bring Captain Caris- 
ton and three reliable men — men who can be depended upon 
to stand by one at a pinch — from Norfolk. They will bring 
you with them, so your party will be 'all present or accounted 
for' as they say in the army when you present yourself to me 
prepared to make the get-a-way. You will take the Old Do- 
minion Line to Norfolk from New York, a day or so before 
the tug will be ready to put out for New York from Nor- 
folk. You will keep in close touch with Captain Cariston 
meantime. He is a rich man and a very old friend of mine, 
besides being a neighbor — so he will be my banker till 1 
triumph and turn the tables on these gilded thieves who are 
attempting to rob and civilly murder me, by making me pay 
one hundred dollars a week, not counting extras, for this cell, 
a bath-room, and the cell you entered by, which is my keep- 
er's. I've been here three months and twelve hundred dol- 
lars of my good 'long green' have found their reluctant way 
into the yawning insatiate coffers of 'Fairdale.' " 

Wedge: "It 's a d — n shame." 


Srotfirl I "Ycu rt voy n^it. Wedge. To resume. 
Captain C spent iweratr years in the West Virginia 

Coal Field' :/ r war, and, as a resnllv is worth a good 

half niilli::i "7 He will be mv baEfcer and will pay 
yon twentr-fiTe hundred dcJlais, for ~ :r i.rxt Tears allow- 
ance in adTanee — so soon as you land " rrinia you 11 
put your hands on the twenty thoiisi:_ i Z : raised you. so 
socm as I i::: zi~ TiiTe frank flie L-:' i r. S~' 1: ite for your 
marred - : :: i r :dT t :::r r : ' w here 
are fisi^- :^-": ::: :_> d" ::. Y:;^ ^c. '^^::_ -.-e:j-_ C^pfaic 
CarislcHi, : : r any and all questions pcrfecdy 
£ranklf, h- :j. : ~ — he knows Fm locked up cm a 
charge '>f :z= : : — '.: r : " -^ few days after I was rail- 
roade«d d^r-^ — ^ :t rain Cariston that Fire in- 
structs : " : -d: It! di- orders, and carry then* 
out tc« :iiT 1 t::t: — ^i: r r di : die and your happiness in 
£his w : r :' r tT : d soipe- That I put him 
in comr^i ^ - - :ir : : r ?d ? a veteran CaTahy 
Officer :;Z : d - t - - :: be grave respon- 
sibility :z "dr : d : I : : entirely in his 
hawda until ^re jmn f*:r:e^ — ~dr:i I -z^2.'3. a^nme cmnmand. 
Seetmd^ and last, the r r - _ r ^jj^ going to join 
farces with the reset::: ^ ::::; I ^ned to find out by 
accident fliat the keepers hsxe never hit an iiiiri ::- — :d-T 
choke him into insen^tnlity and then put him ii:' 
jacket. I saw Pat SKgo do it to a prisoner a - '^ 
ago. Mow. since then Fve been doing a good de: 
ing about throats, and half-Melsons and stran^e-d d t 
can this the ''Fairdalc' hold' among the keeper— d 
Pat Sligo worked cm the patient. It consists in clasping the 
hands round tl^ man'^s neck till they overlap at the back of 
his neck and pre^ng <me thumb cm top of the c/Gtusr and bc^th 
on his windpipe until he loses consciousness. Now. loc^ here" 
(slippiug tibe horse-dioe under the bed-clothes and pulling off 
his coat and disclodng a pink silk und^shirt. cut low. and 
with ^ort sleeves) "you s^ Tm blessed my nature with some- 
thing of a neck — I wear a number sixteen collar, and yet I 
only weigh a hundred and fifty-four. You see these mus- 
cles standing out tlmie at the base of the neck — like, some- 
what, like — speaking figuratively — girders! And the walk of 


my throat and my windpipe are proportionately strong — 
well, I'm staking my chances of escape on the strength of 
those muscles. Thus. I propose to provoke Pat Sligo to a 
physical encounter — he won't need much provocation — do you 
think he will, Wedge ? How does that proposition strike your 
scientific mechanical mind?" 

Wedge : (After a pause. After turning his head in 
a so-to-speak bird-like way, first on one side, and then, after 
another pause, on the other, and exploding his breath on the 
word, "Well!"). 

Wedge: ^'Welll I should say Pat Sligo was not a very 
difficult proposition to provoke." 

Stutfield: "I am fully of your mind. Wedge, and glad 
of it. Now Pat Sligo is a more powerful man, speaking gen- 
erally, than I am — and weighs fully forty pounds more. 
But there are two of my assets more powerful than Pat Sli- 
go's — one is my wrists, and the other is my neck. I've exam- 
ined Pat's neck carefully and frequently for the past week 
or so — ever since I was made cognizant of the existence of the 
' 'Fairdale' Strangle Hold' — with a view to choking him preUy 
nearly to death, by the application of this same hold. Now 
Pat's neck has no such supporting muscles as mine. It's 
thick and burly but lacks the power mine exhibits under ex- 
amination. So when it comes to an attack, it resolves itself — 
so to speak — into a question of penetration in naval warfare; 
the strength of the nech standing tor our armor-plates — and 
our grip for the weight of our metal — the calibre and num- 
ber of our guns. In weight of metal — in guns — ^he is prob- 
ably my superior — ^but in armour I am his master and can af- 
ford to let him fire the first broadside, without a solitary shot 
till then. I shall provoke the assault and he will at once 
sprina: at my throat. I shall, of course, withstand his spring 
— I am an old football full-back — and so soon as he is preoccu- 
pied lacing his fingers round my throat and windpipe. I shall 
sail into his windpipe, and — unless I am very much mistaken 
in my calculations — I shall choke him almost to deatii in 
short order. When Pat Sligo goes off into a dreamless sleep 
the kncttiest portion of the problem obtrudes its head. What's 
to be done with him on waking up. which he may do any 
time and long before I can make my get-a-way secure ? Upon 

80 R B B E R Y U X D E R L A W 

that knotty point I have put hours of my best thought, and 
have solved it to my entire satisfaction — if not to Pat's. I 
have observed from my wide reading that men bound with 
ropes invariably work their way out of their bonds in time. 
It therefore occurred to me to get you. Wedge. — to whom 
steel is a medium as malleable as wax — speaking figurative- 
ly — for you *re an experienced inventive genius — for all that 
you are only about thirty years old — to make the following, 
what I shall term Quietus, namely, what I shall call the 
Union Handcuff-Footcuff-Gag-Blindfold-and-Ear-Muffler, to 
prevent the party 's saying anything, seeing anything, doing 
anything, or hearing the footsteps of those about hun. or 
their voices. I propose that you make this — you can easily do 
it in ten days or less — thus. Get a pair of handcuffs. Make 
a pair of footcuffs to slip over the ankles. Xext. join them 
with a strong but light chain, like a dcg chain so that when 
a man is both hand-and-foot-cuffed. his hands cannot be 
raised above his waist — in order to prevent him from "mon- 
keying" with the rest of the paraphernalia. Xext. a light 
steel band about an inch wide to go over the top of the head. 
imder the chin, across the mouth, and stopping at the ears as 
it passes on its way to the back of the head where it is se- 
curely padlocked. It will look something like a diver's hel- 
met without the solidity. The gag is to be made of iron so 
he can't bite through it. and is to be inserted between the lips 
so as to rest upon the tongue. The mufflers across the ears 
are to be shaped — the wool on the inside of this iron band — 
like a miniature peg top so that they will press onto the ear 
and into the ear cavity. The last point to be considered is 
what's to become of him when thus trussed up for keeps, and 
good and all ! That. too. I put some of my very best thought 
upon with the following result. A strong dog chain will be 
drawn tightly about his waist and padlocked behind. Final- 
ly, another stout chain will connect with that and encircle a 
noble oak under which I propose to fight for liberty. Bring 
these things in a hand-bag. They don't consider you worth 
considering — they say you are an inventor and 'therefore 
haven't got good sense' — and therefore there is no danger in 
letting you come to me and go as you please — " 


Wedge: "Is that so, Mr. Stutfield ! They think I 
haven't got good sense?" 

Stutfield : "I assure you. Wedge, it is literally true." 

Wedge: "TFe??/ I'm not sorry it looks as though there 
was going to be a chance for me to show 'em whether I have 
good sense or not." 

Stutfield: "Well said. Wedge. Now for the wind up. 
If they should ask to see what's in the bag, open and show 
them; and say it's a patent handcuff you've just made, and 
have brought it up to induce me to promote it for you. 
(Wedge smiles and nods assent). I'm a wary general. I'll 
risk my life as I've suggested — ^but I take absolutely no un- 
necessary risks, and leave absoluteh^ no point unguarded — no 
matter how unlikely, no matter how remote. Now, as I've 
said, this is the loneliest spot around here — this wood of 
'Fairdale,' so lonely that none of the inmates are ever taken 
there, bar myself — they have such sublime confidence in the 
brawn of Pat Sligo that they break all rules in his favor, and 
take any and all chances with me. Now I've mentioned the 
general rule to you. The exception, however, may occur, and 
a partv — not patients — but of visitors — or keepers off duty — 
might intrude upon us. If this should take place before the 
fight it will be plain sailing — the fight is postponed till they 
go. If, however, they should happen along while the fight 
is on, or just after I've won and am applying the 'Quietus' — it 
would be awkward, and might lead to serious consequences. 
In this event. I'll blow the silver whistle I have on my gold 
key chain three times — at once the Captain and his men — 
who will be within ear-shot as the woods are only about three 
hundred yards deep to the Marmaroneck road here — at once 
the Captain and his men will charge with drawn revolvers 
to our support. They will then 'hold up' the newcomers and 
leave Pat in statu quo — whatever that may be — even at lib- 
erty — for the newcomers can sound the alarm as well as he. 
We will all then dash for the wagon — which will be entirely 
hidden from them by the trees and be well on our victorious 
road before they can gather an armed force strong enough to 
pursue. No keepers will be sent on the job. but the White 
Plains police — and there 's nothing in White Plains can catch 
us with fifteen minutes' start, and besides this we shall have 

82 R B B E R Y U X D E R L A W 

a full tliree-quarrers of an hour to our credit — long before they 
can send messengers to police headquarters — for the village is 
a full mile from 'Fair dale.* So you see. we are absolutely, 
mathematically certain to get away scot fi^ee. If all goes 
well. I propose steaming past Xew York to save the himdred 
or more miles it would mean t-o clear the opposite end of 
LfOng Island — the end furthest fi'om Xew York — but if we 
are discovered before leaving 'Fairdale' I shall insist on that. 
as otherwise we should surely be met by a cordon of police 
boats, barring oiu^ passage between Xew York and Brook- 
lyn, which would mean a naval b^ntle I propose to avoid, if 
possible. So as soon as I say 'T\'edge. it *s time you were 
going." you will bid me good-bye and leave. But you wiU 
not go far. You will hide behind the nearest tree at a safe# 
distance. So soon as you are an your icay Fll provoke Sligo 
to a trial of strength. I nag Jit add that if I should fad that 
I have underestimated the strength of his necl^, and cant 
choice him, FV drav: my horseshoe and quietly Ijreah his l^g. 
TYeTL then truss him up in the 'Quietus' and he can rest on 
the bench at the foot of the tree : but trussed to the tree, and 
gagged and blinded, and ear-muliled hell be in any event. 
This is only August, and the weather is mild and they'll find 
him inside of an hour or so after dark, and send for a black- 
smith and file him loose. If. however, as I anticipate. I have 
no difficulty in choking him — you will return as soon as you 
see him fall, and help truss him up. You will then slip down 
and summon the Captain and his men. as I am chaining him 
to the tree, as that will save time — I need your help though in 
applying the gag. blinder and mufflers. How does that 
strike you. "Wedge?" 

TTedge : "^ell! Come to think of it. it ain't half a bad 
scheme — and to tell you the truth. I'm d — n glad of a chance 
to shrw these fellers whether I have good sense or not — 111 
be goin* — " 

(A piercing, blood-curdling shriek rends the air. followed 
by low moans. The voice of Pat Sligo is heard in the hall). 

Sligo: 'Til teach you to speak disrespectful of the Gov- 
ernors of 'Fairdale.' ** 

(Followed by a low moan and then silence, and the voice 
of Sligo is heard") — 


Sligo: ''That settled his hash, I guess — he'll come to in 
a minute or two, Tim."' 

(To another keeper whose footsteps are heard approach- 

"T onl}^ give him a taste of the old hold — " 

(Wedge, who has looked decidedly alarmed at the dis- 
turbance, and drawn closer to Stutfield, and the latter, regard 
one another. Stutfield smiles easilj' and says in a low tone) — 

Stutfield: "'The old hold— eh? the old "Fairdale' 
strangle-hold' ! Well, Sligo, this little episode will strengthen 
my clutch on your windpipe at our next encounter." 

End of Act III, Scene II. 


Act III. Scene III. 

(Three weeks are supposed to elapse between Scenes II 

and III.) 

(The wood at "Fairdale." Time. 3:30 P. M. Stutfield 
Wedge and Sligo. Former dressed in flannels — trousers and 
coat, blue and white stripe. Outing shirt, white, with light 
blue four-in-hand tie in the low collar. Leather belt support- 
ing trousers — ^no waistcoat — and gold keyring chain running 
into right trousers' pocket. The right coat pocket is seen to 
bulge slightly with the bulk of the horseshoe. He wears a 
flat straw hat with black ribbon, and white canvas shoes, pipe- 
clayed. He and Wedge are seated on a rustic bench under 
the big oak spoken of by Stutfield. Wedge looks highly 
pleased but rather flushed from excitement. He has a small 
grip-sack in his right hand. Pat Sligo is sitting out of ear- 
shot on another rustic bench under another oak. There are 
one or more other of these circular or otherwise, benches in 
the opening in the wood here, which is filled with large old 
oaks, and is gloomy and sombre in appearance. Stutfield has 
just said with a meaning smile, "Wedge, it's time you were 


goin,"' and the latter has promptly risen to take his leave, 
when Stutfield suddenly raises his head, and his face darkens, 
as he says in a low tone) — 

Stutfield: "The unexpected is about to happen. Wedge. 
— but not the unprepared against. Prepare for serious even- 
tualities, and remember that you are independent for life if 
you stand by me at this crisis which cannot — I don't care who 
in H — 1 it is who *s coming — help going our way." 

TTedge: "111 stand by you. Mr. Stutfield to the bitter 
end — and show 'em whether I've got good sense or not.'' 

Stutfield: "Bravo. TVedgel Xow prepare to receive the 

(Xo soimd has as yet reached the audience, but now the 
distant, muffled sound of voices and footsteps is heard ap- 
proaching. Pat Sligo draws swiftly up to Stutfield and 
places himself at his right elbow. Stutfield and Wedge both 
remain seated. Wedge taking his cue from Stutfield and 
every now and then glancing at him. Soon the approaching 
party come into view. It consists of Winston Blettermole, 
Constantia Blettermole. James Lawless, Belisarius P. Spink. 
Dr. Barkus and Dr. Xein.+ They move forward rather rap- 
idly into within about ten feet, and then cautiously scatter 
away from Stutfield's neighborhood to adjacent seats. Stut- 
field views them witli an absolutely inscrutable face. Wedge, 
to whom are unknown all the newcomers, glances at them in- 
quiringly and from them to Stutfield. who looks straight 
ahead of him. The Blettermoles and Lawless have seated 
themselves under one tree. The alienists under another. 
Spink alone holds his ground, and sneerinelv addresses Stut- 

Spink: "Well mv distinguished friend, how do you find 
the salubrious air of Westchester County comports with your 
superb constitution ?" 

(Stutfield continue- to gaze ahead of him utterly oblivi- 
ous of Spink). 

Spink: "Ah! Still refractory — still recalcitrant. I see. 
Well, my distinguished brother member of the Bar of Xew 
York, we shall shortly break that haughty spirit of yours. 
We propose putting into play a new force. We propose hav- 
ing you declared an incompetent person by reason of insanity. 


by a Sheriff's Jury, who shall never lay eyes on you, and by a 
Commission-In-Lunacy made up of a lawyer, an alienist and 
a layman, all and sundry of which shall be of our own choos- 
ing — of course, not outwardly, but actually. You will not be 
able to see the jury, for w^e shall have certificates made out 
by physicians here that it would injure you — be deleterious to 
you to be exposed to the excitement of a court room. You 
will, therefore, be tried in absentia — in your absence — and 
condemned in your absence — and we shall have the naming 
of the Committee to whose control your entire estate shall be 
handed over during your life-time, as w^ell as to whose tender 
keeping you will be consigned for life — or, if he dies before 
you, to a successor appointed at our instigation, as in the first 
instance. Your home shall be sold over your head — the old 
home of your ancestors — 'Eokeby' — I have half a mind to buy 
it myself — " 

Constantia: "Mr. Spink, I will not permit this sort of 
thing to continue any longer. I forbid you, upon pain of my 
anger — of never speaking to you again — to continue to torture 
Mr. Stutfield." 

Spink: "Permit me, madam, to observe that I am sim- 
ply stating, without ornament or embellishment in the least 
degree— what is shortly to happen as the result of our numer- 
ous conferences at all of which, my dear madam, — all — we 
have had the distinguished honor of your presence. 'Rokeby' 
will most certainly be sold, because it will fetch a 
superb figure — having been the home of so distinguished a 
man as Mr. Hugh Stutfield — and I want hereby to inform 
you that the Committee of the person and estate of an in- 
competent is a very practical, a very unfeeling party indeed — 
it is questionable even, whether a corporation has not — even 
a corporation — has not more soul." 

Constantia: "But notwithstanding the sad fact that 
these things must be, I do not propose to stand by and see 
Mr. Stutfield tortured by hearing of them." 

Spink : "Ah ! Indeed. Then I am to understand that 
you prefer that Mr. Stutfield should wake up to the news in 
the papers some morning that First: he has been declared a 
hopeless incompetent; and Second: that 'Rokeby' has been 
sold by his 'Committee,' and Third: that B. P. Spink — your 


servant, madam — to command — has bought the handsome and 
historic estate. It occurs to me that my poor, blunt way 
smacks more of kindness to our distinguislied friend than 
your more refined silence.'' 

Stutfield: ''Belisarius P. Spink" (in icy cold tones, and 
looking straight ahead of him) '"you are a profound lawyer — 
a profound logician — and a profound rogue." 

Spink: ''Mr. Stutfield, your language is highly unpar- 
liamentar}^, to sa}^ the least.'' 

Stutfield: ''Admitted." 

Spink: "Pray, sir, on what grounds do you base your 
most injurious asseveration?" 

Stutfield : "Upon the grounds, Primo : Your general 
reputation, in and out of the profession. Secundo : Your 
hand in this most felonious affair." 

Constantia: "My dear Hugh, I cannot permit such lan- 
guage to be directed at anything with which I have been 
even indirectly connected, and therefore take my leave." 

Stutfield: "Well played, Constantia, you retire just in 

Spink: "But before we go, permit me to observe that 
we have out-manouvered you." 

Stutfield : "Apparently, and jiisqit Hci — just at present — 

Spink: "'Apparently and just at present,' why, my 
dear, sir, you talk as though you still had some hope left." 

Stutfield: " 'While there's life there's hope,' Mr. Spink." 

Spink: ''I admit amazement at hearing so banal, so 
commonplace a sentiment from the lips of so distinguished a 
law-writer as Mr. Hugh Stutfield." 

Stutfield: "You are liable to get a greater dose of 
amazement even, than that, before long, a little bird has told 

Spink : "Indeed ! And what kind or variety of bird 
might that be, may I ask, that has been so unwarrantably lo- 

Stutfield: "A sparrow." 

Spink: "^ sparrow! The meanest, most contemptible — 
the most damnable — pardon that slip, my fair client" (bow- 
ing to Constantia) "bird known to the feathered kingdom — 


you must be hard pushed for companions if a sparrow is the 
best you can do." 

Stutfield: "I am hard pushed — I freely admit that — a 
sparrow is the only companion I have at 'Fairdale.' They're 
the only birds seen or heard here — I've not even seen a crow^ 
since I arrived here." 

Constantia: "Poor Hugh" (sighing) "I am so sorry — 
tor I know of old, how fond you are of all birds hut spar- 

Stutfield: "Yes, Constantia, my fate should appeal, al- 
most, to a heart of stone." 

Constantia : "My dear Hugh, you don't insinuate that 
my poor mother's heart is one of stone." 

Stutfield: "Not for your children, my charming rela- 
tive — hut the upper edge of the nether millstone is as velvet 
far softness compared to your heart where their financial in- 
terests are concerned." 

Constantia: "O!" 

Blettermole: "Unless you were a prisoner I would not 
permit you to emplo}^ such terms to Mrs. Blettermole un- 

Stutfield: "Chastisement from your hands, my little 
friend, is a proposition — my little fop — freighted with hu- 
mour — " 

Blettermole: (Starting up angrily). "I'll allow no man 
to use such language to me." 

Lawless: (Laying a strongly restraining hand on his 
arm). "You forget yourself." 

Blettermole: (In a surly tone, and reseating himself). 
"Thank you for the hint — the dog's impertinence angered 

Stutfield: "Lawless, I am obliged to you for saving me 
the trouble of a scene. Before bidding you farewell, I might 
observe that I am not surprised to find you in such company. 
Your career is not unknown to me, of course, and the climax 
of it is worthy of its previous devious courses." 

Lawless: "Do you mean to insinuate, Stutfield, that I 
was ever engaged in a transaction in the slightest degree un- 
savoury ?" 


Stutfield: "In affairs of the heart, yes — very un- 

Lawless: "Affairs of the heart are not for discussion in 
mixed company, and before strangers, I would have you un- 

Stutfield : "Generally speaking, yes : but not under these 
unusual circumstances, when men and women in the fierce 
blow-pipe of temptation, show the true colour of their souls — 
or what passes for souls in their case, at least." 

Lawless: "Spare us a discussion trenching upon that 
fugitive and nebulous quantity, the soul." 

Stutfield: "By all means, but it is sometimes necessary 
to name the unpopular — even despised — thing, in order to be 

Lawless: "You appear to have a rather inferior opinion 
of me." 

Stutfield: "Frankly, I have." 

Lawless: "That will be a sorrow which I shall carry to 
my grave." 

Stutfield : "It has not been without its uses tho* — your — 
ahem! — ahem — interesting record and reputation with wo- 
men and girls in your own walk of life — and — below — 

Law^less: "Pardon my once more reminding you of the 
inviolability — among gentlemen, that is to say — of affairs of 
the heart." 

Stutfield : "But in war all is grist that comes to the mill 
of a satirist. And a satirist I have hecome^ 

Lawless : "Indeed ! " 

Stutfield: "Fact! It was a case of 'root hog or die'; 
tear or be torn. So I tore. I'll give you a specimen of m}^ 
newly discovered vein before this interview closes, and leave 
it to your sophisticated judgment in things literary, as well 
as things artistic, as to whether my output is pure gold or 
pure dross. Meantime, a final word in the legal ear of my 
astute adversary, Belisarius P. Spink. The time has come 
to lift the veil. He intimated a little while ago, that he had 
out-manoeuvred me. To this I finally reply — " (His face 
lighting up with triumph, and slapping his right thigh, exult- 
ingly) : "By G — d, I've beaten youP^ 


Spink: (Uneasily). ''Ho^y 's that — I didn't quite catch 

Stutfield: (Smiling broadly). "I observed that I had 
beaten you."' 

Spink: ^'May I be permitted to inquire how?" 

Stutfield: "Certainty. My Subconsciousness put it into 
my head to — a-hem ! — Constantia, my dear, prepare yourself 
for the bitterest disappointment of your bright and happy 
life — I know your weakness — your ambitious aims for those 
— ahem ! — pardon my Saxon — for those whelps of yours — " 

Blettermole: ^''Yau rujfianP^ 

Stutfield: "It's all in a lifetime, Blettermole, all in a 
lifetime. To resume. I know, Constantia, that you and Blet- 
termole lust after my five millions. Very well, then, prepare 
to take your medicine. My Subconsciousness put it into my 
head, not a thousand years ago, to — marh you now — good 
people — mark you now — bur}' — ha ! ha ! — hury — possibly in 
moisture-proof oilskin wrappers, padlocked in a stout tin 
chest the two and a quarter millions obtained from the sale 
of 'S. T.' — Ah! I see your fair cheek pales, my fair friend" 
(pointing exultingly at Constantia, who shrinks, cowering 
before him. She clasps her hands, drawing them to her bosom, 
and murmurs) — 

Constantia: "My children I" 

Stutfield: "Yes, Constantia, your children are the cause 
of your risking your soul in this foul, dastardly plot, and — 
after all — your children lose.'^'' 

Blettermole : (Aside) . "HelPs fire !" 

Stutfield: "I buried it, possibly, by the sad sea wave, 
possibly by moonlight at midnight, alone — to do so would 
comport with what Mr. Lawless considers my romantic rub- 
bish — " 

Lawless: "I admit. Stutfield, you have achieved a mas- 
ter-stroke here, manipulating the mysterious Subliminal Fac- 
ulty of the mind — quite romantic, I must confess, and — mes 

Stutfield: "'Praise from Sir Hubert is praise indeed.' 
But this is not all. I was at pains to write that night from 
the Kensington^ and post by a trustworthy hand, tico letters. 
One to my learned and experienced and honest North Caro- 


lina Counsel. One to my ditto Virginia Counsel; informing 
them, briefly, of the outrage on law and the Constitution of 
the United States, perpetrated upon me by virtue of the New 
York alleged Law on Lunacy, and instructing them to fight 
conjointly, any and all efforts to obtain control of my prop, 
erty in those States by any and all parties, working under a 
decree-in-lunacy from New York and to — Tnark this^ Law- 
less — hring frcmd charges — charges of perjury — against the 
two Petitioners in the lunacy proceedings against 'me — " 

(Lawless pales and shrinks. Blettermole pales and starts 
back. Spink moves uneasily. Barkus and Nein glance at 
each other anxiously). 

"Messrs. Winston Blettermole and James Lawless, mil- 
lionaires, and my worst enemies in the world. So 
my very good friends, your very humble servant is 
about to play the role of Samson in the Temple 
of the Philistines — youVe wounded me, but I've ruined 
your reputations as honest men — not to say, gentlemen, — and 
blasted your nefarious scheme at robbery under law of my 
property — for no Virginia nor North Carolina Court will, for 
One moinent^ countenance such nefarious practices in lunacy 
a^ are^ alas! of weekly occurence in the great State of New 
York. So, my fair Constantia, instead of stealing a cool five 
million for your promising offspring, Pve turned the tables on 
you and your co -conspirators., so that in place of five millions 
you must be content with a paltry million and a half. I'm 
sorry for you — from my soul I am, Constantia^ — for the mil- 
lion and a half comes high — comes at the price of the repu- 
tations of every man and woman here present." 

Stutfield: (After a pause). "But you must know that 
the misery and wretchedness which you have subjected me to 
for three long months — and propose to subject me to for life 
— have struck the rock of my nature, and verse has gushed 
forth — satirical verse, for the most part, but not entirely so — 
so that, once out of here, / ha've a weapon with tohich to 
square accounts with any man or any woman who has ever 
injured me. I shall close this interview by reciting a sonnet, 
Shakspearian strictly in form — that is to say, the Enirlish 
and not the Italian sonnet-form — directly inspired by the 
actions of each one of you people, male and female, here. 


Thereafter I shall never lay eyes on any of you again — but I 
shall spread your fame — not to say infamy — from one quar- 
ter of this great continent to the other: 

A Satirist's Salutatory. 

The nameless folly of the human race 
Its cruel selfishness and trackless guile 
Make me ashamed at sight of human face — 
That stamping ground for treachery and wile. 
The smirking smile of callow, empty youth 
The ripe pomposity of hoary age 
The shaded gleam of manhood's lustful tooth 
Each plays its part upon its petty stage. 
Seduction, lying, thieving, each in turn — 
A murder here and there and then a rape — 
Each needing only that temptation burn 
And hold fair chance of ultimate escape. 
Exceptions to said rule exist, 'tis true 
No such exception doth exist in you. 

(Stutfield looks at different individuals as he recites the 
lines by heart. He looks at Constantia when he says "lying"; 
at Spink and Blettermole — from one to the other, and lingers 
on the word — "thieving" ; at Lawless on "seduction" ; at Blet- 
termole on "callow, empty youth"; at Barkus and Nein on 
"the ripe pomposity of hoary age"; 
hood's lustful tooth"; at Spink on 
there"; at Lawless on "and then a rape"; and ends up the 
closing couplet towards Constantia Blettermole with a smile 
and a bow. The sonnet has told. Each has winced when 
looked at. Blettermole springs to his feet and attempts to 
rush upon Stutfield at the conclusion, but Lawless — a far 
more powerful man — instantly and forcibly restrains him. 
Stutfield regards the manoevre with smiling indetference). 

Lawless: "Mr. Stutfield, we take our leave of you. 
Chivalry forces me to admit that out of your woes you have 
forged a trenchant weapon indeed, but frankness insists that 
you will never be able to wield it against your enemies, since 
vou will never eet out of here." 

92 R O 3 B E R Y U X D E R L A TV 

Stutfield : ••Thank you. Mr 
compliment. You are a foeman worthy of my satiric steel. 
And now. gentlemen, permit me to bring this interview to a 
close with the request that I see the face of all of you — no 
more. Constantia. I have this to say to you in parting. You 
are a devout Christian, are you not?" 

Constantia : "I trust so. Hugh.*" 

Stutfield: "So far. so good. I therefore hereby invite 
you to meet me before the Great White Throne." 

Constantia: ••TVith pleasure. Hugh." 

Stutfield: -Adieu." 

(Blettermole casts a look of the most malevolent hatred 
at Stutfield as he leaves, and turns to glower at him over his 
shoulder. Stutfield ignores him but watches Constantia with 
a half smile of amused interest. She somewhat shrinks un- 
der it. and hastily retreats with Blettermole. Lawless care- 
lessly glances towards Stutfield. and half waves his hand to 
him. as though involuntarily. Stutfield ignores him. Spink 
looks keenly at Stutfield and shakes his head in a dissatisfied 
way as he moves oil. Barkus glances keenly at Stutfield. and 
then turns and walks rapidly off. Xein avoids Stutfield's di- 
rection and ponderously moves away. So soon as the last 
foot-fall has died away Stutfield smilingly turns to Wedge) — 

Stutfield: "Tredge. it 's time you were going." 

(TTedge, who has been glancing awkwardly, first from 
one person, then to the next, during the entire conversation, 
pulls himself together, and says) : 

Wedge: "^eJl! Good-bye. Mr. Stutfield." 

(Wedge nods towards Pat Sligo. who ignores him ut- 

Stutfield: (Pleasantly^. "Good night. Wedge." 

(Wedge hastily disappears in the same direction as the 
others. Sligo ha? removed himself to his former tree so soon 
as the party of visitors disappeared. Stutfield yawns, looks 
at his watch and stretches himself. Removes his hat and 
slowly rises. As he does so. his right side is turned towards 
the audience, away from Sligo. It is seen that he hastily 
slips his right hand into his right side pocket and assures 
himself that the horseshoe is secure. He then says, in stern, 
peremptory tones) — 


Stiitfield: "Pat Sligo, come here!"' 

(Sligo, unused to such tones, starts and hastily rises and 
glowers at Stutfield. He approaches Stutfield slowly and 
sullenly. He says slowly) : 

Sligo: "Look a-here, my fine young sprig, don't you 
talk to me like that or you'll get something you don't bargain 

Stutfield: "The Devil, you say! Well, my fine husky 
proposition from the County Down, I propose 'taking a fall 
out of you^ here and now." 

Sligo : "You propose taking a fall out of me. Ho ! Ho ! 
I could break you between my thumb and middle finger." 

Stutfield : "The Devil you say ! Well, you might as well 
set about doing it then, because unless you break me, I'm go- 
ing to 'take a fall' out of you." 

Sligo: "If you say that again I'll take you at your word, 
and give you what's coming to you, and I'll tell Dr. Bear you 
tried to get away, and first attacked mee-self." 

Stutfi-eld: "I've no doubt you're a fine, lurid liar when 
it suits your books." 

Sligo: "You call me a liar?" 

Stutfield: "Yes." 

Sligo: "Then take what's comin' to ye." 

(As he says this, Stutfield is seen by the audience, to 
throw his right leg far behind him and half crouch as though 
to sustain a shock, but his arms are hanging at rest at his 
side. Instantly Sligo springs at his throat with the roar of 
a wild beast, his fingers locking themselves round Stutfield's 
neck. Stutfield sways backward under the onset but recov- 
ers himself. Instantly Stutfield stretches forward and takes 
precisely the same hold on Sligo's neck. They wrestle and 
sway all over the stage, Sligo grinning with rage and show- 
ing all his teeth, his face distorted with passion and breath- 
ing — or rather panting — through his drawn lips, like a run- 
ning dog. Stutfield, with face sternly set, but calm. It is 
gradually seen that Sligo is getting concerned at the imper- 
viousness to pressure of Stutfield's neck. Up to now. Stut- 
field has contented himself with wrestling and pushing — 
give and take — about the stage. He has only firmly held 
Sligo — has not attempted to choke him. Now, however, a 


change comes over Stiitfield's face. It suddenly becomes 
fierce. He hisses) : 

Stutfield: '-Now, you murderous ruffian, I'm going to 
give you what you gave that harmless gentleman on my 
floor, three weeks ago. Pat Sligo I'm your master I 
I've got a more powerful throat than you — you canH 
prevent my speaking. Now this is what I am going to do as 
sure as I have my hands on your throat and my thumbs on 
your windpipe, /'m going to chohe you aVmost to death^ you 
bloody^ murderous hrute^ and then Pm going to escape. So 
here goes! OneP'' (xls he says that he presses Sligo's wind- 
pipe and the latter emits a strangling sound). ''^TwoP'' 
(Stutfield presses again and again Sligo emits a strangling 
sound). ^'ThreeT (He appears to literally spring upon Sli- 
go in spite of the other's powerful extended arms, and almost 
shouts the word "TA?'eg," as Sligo emits a third and last 
strangling sound and then closes his eyes and falls back inert. 
The moment this occurs. Wedge, who has been stealthily ap- 
proaching, taking advantage of all the cover the wood af- 
fords, and springing with unexpected agilit}^ from behind tree- 
trunk to tree-trunk, and is now up to the combatants, springs 
briskly into view with the "Quietus," Union. Handcuff-Foot- 
CufF, etc., gleaming — its bright steel bands and chains gleam- 
ing in the rays of the now declining sun). 

Wedge: "You done that fine, Mr. Stutfield — it done me 
good to see it. Now watch me lock him up for the night, and 
before he wakes up I'll put the gag on so's he can't holler." 

Stutfield: "Good idea, AYedge. I'll hold his head up. 
Don't cut his lip as you prize his teeth open with the end of 
that iron gag. He 's in an absolute, dead faint — I surely 
trust he'll come to — you can witness that he attacked me that 
way first — " 

AYedge: "Yes, sir; I was watchin' you from behind a 

Stutfield : "In any event we'll act as though he loere 
coming to. Now I'll hold his head just as you direct — you're 
bossing this part of the job." 

Wedge: "He's coming to! See his legs kick!" 

Pat Sligo: "What the H—1 !" 

Stutfield: "Jam the gag into his mouth!" 


Wedge: (Doing so). '^O. K." 

Stutfield: "I'll slip on the nippers and footcuffs while 
you do that." (Stutfield swiftly slips on handcuff's and then 
foot-manacles. Sligo struggles futily after these are in place). 
"There ! There 's no more kick coming from Pat now. So 
call out your orders, Wedge, and — as they say in the Orient — 
in the far home of Rumdumbagore — 'To 'ear is to obey.' " 

Wedge: "Hold his head higher off the ground so that I 
can get the control band that connects with the gag-piece and 
ear mufflers into place at the back of his head. The blind- 
ers slip into place by putting the other two into the correct 
position. I think I'll patent this. Now wait till I see if the 
front attachment is O. K. That's right — now I'll lock it." 
(Does so). 

Stutfield: "Give me the key." 

Wedge: "Here it is." 

Stutfield: "Thanks." (Slips it into high right trouser's 

Wedge: (Viewing that part of his work with profound 
satisfaction). "There! That settles his saying anything, see- 
ing anything, or hearing anything, till someone gets a black- 
smith — and files through that there two-inch steel control-band 
— that blacksmith will earn his money, and not get much sleep 
this night — for I was partickler to choose chilled-steel for 
the control-band. PU teach ^em whether Pve good sense 
or not. There now ! The head 's all right. I'll let you 
clamp the belt-chain round him — pull it good and tight so he 
can't wriggle through it. Here 's the cable-chain to fasten to 
the belt chain — then take a hitch with the. cable-chain round 
the tree. Now, Mr. Stutfield, I'm off to get the Captain and 
his men." 

Stutfield: "Very well, Wedge, so do." 

(Stutfield then lugs Sligo — struggling fiercely but ut- 
terly ineffectually and utterly noiselessly — except for the 
fierce hissing gasps of his breath through the gag — gasps not 
to catch his breath for he can breathe perfectly, but in his 
effort to talk — low, muffled, gutteral growls, also accompany 
his gasps — Stutfield then lugs Sligo to his feet and stands 
him up and pushes and drags him several yards to the oak 
the fight begun under. He then pushes Sligo unceremoni- 


ously into position — but comfortably — onto the circular bench 
and then secures the belt-chain about his waist pulling it 
so tight that Sligo grunts, then locks it and slips the key into 
the same right-hand trouser's pocket. He then runs the cable 
chain under the belt chain and takes a hitch with the cable 
chain round the tree — the big central oak. He then locks the 
cable chain, and slips the key into the aforesaid pocket. He 
then steps back, and views the spectacle. He smiles and 
says) : 

Stutfield: "Ha! ha! Pat." (Waving his hand to him). 
"I know you can't hear me or see me — but I can't help that.'' 
(Stutfield goes close to Sligo and attempts, but without 
success, to prize the left ear-muffler slight away from his 
ear) : "Wedge has clone his work well — you cant 
budge that muffler without bringing Pat's head along with 
it." (After casting a piercing glance at every quarter of the 
compass) — "This is the loneliest spot in Westchester County. 
So there 's no fear in speaking aloud so long as Mr. Patrick 
Sligo is the only one to overhear — so here goes:" (Raising his 
voice somewhat, and putting his mouth close to Sligo's left 
ear). "Ta! ta! Pat, I'll meet you in a better world where 
the lunacy laws, presumably, are more legal and equitable 
than in New York just at present. So long, Pat! Be good 
to yourself." (With great deliberation and pausing between 
each word)— WHO'S— LOOXEY— NOW?" 

(Hasty footsteps — with a military beat — are heard in the 
wood and Captain Cariston appears followed, in single file, 
by three men, of tall, martial bearing, wearing soft, black felt 
hats — the same Captain Cariston wears, — dressed, all four, 
in gray sack-suits — resembling Confederate gray. The men 
are all grizzled, but wear moustaches only. Stutfield instant- 
ly turns, and gives a half military salute to Captain Cariston 
who returns it, with a correct, stiff military salute. The men 
halt and form a line — left-dress — towards the Captain and 
stand at "attention" looking straight ahead of them. Xo one 
speaks. Captain Cariston turns to the man nearest him 
and motions to him. The latter steps forward, and. from un- 
der a j^ellow rain-coat over his arm. produces a 44-calibre. 
ivory-handled, Colt revolver and full belt of cartridges, and 
passes them to Stutfield, whose face lights up, and who smiles 


exultingly as his hand reaches the Aveapon, and he instantly 
straps on the belt — his sack coat is cut low enough to com- 
pletely hide the muzzle of the pistol. As soon as Stutfield 
buckles on the weapon and raises his eyes to Captain Caris- 
ton in front of him — the latter raises his right fore-finger and 
points — having attracted Stutfield's attention — to his own left 
side, lifting his coat-flap and disclosing a 44-calibre Colt re- 
volver and belt of cartridges, similar to Stutfield's — except 
that the other revolver has a wooden handle instead of ivory — 
Stutfield gravely bows his head as sign of approval. Captain 
Cariston then turns to his men and raises his right fore- 
finger. He then points to his revolver and makes a sharp up- 
ward gesture away from it. The three men promptly with 
their left hands simultaneously lift the left flaps of their 
sack coats and disclose revolvers and cartridge belts, similar 
in every particular to the Captain's. Just at this moment a 
light step is heard, and Viola Cariston, dressed in a dark 
green travelling dress of the period, appears. The Captain 
frowns. The three men preserve their stern, impassive, set 
expression. Stutfield's face lights up with joy and he springs 
towards her but utters no word. She says nothing, but bur- 
ies her head on his breast, and bursts into silent weeping as he 
folds her in his arms and rests her head on his shoulder, and 
pats her back as a Mother does a sobbing child. He does not 
offer to kiss her, nor she him. He has stood thus for about 
half a minute during which time, Viola has been shaken with 
utterly noiseless sobs and has not raised her head — when Cap- 
tain Cariston frowns again and pulls out his watch and hast- 
ily steps up to Viola, takes her gently by the left arm and 
leads her away — as he does so, she puts her face in the hollow 
of her right arm and so screens it from the audience and 
everyone else. Her sobs have nearly ceased. The Captain 
slowly and tenderly leads her away. Stutfield falls in — si- 
lently — ^behind. The others fall in after him, in Indian file, 
and silently file into the wood to the right and disappear.) 

V ' 
End of Rottery Under Law. 




Chorus loquitur. 

The Muse will now conduct thee to a time 

The counterpart of ours for lust of gold. 

The counterpart of ours for every crime 

That in the Rogue his Calendar is told. 

But one great virtue hath this older day — 

The time of Catiline and antique Rome — 

Men had the nerve their hands iHlC game to flay 

Free from Hypocrisy's vile nasal drone. 

Minus said change, man's nature shows no change 

From time of Catiline to time of now ; 

And in these pages the Muse hath her range 

Fro' th' Yale of Love to th' Alpine heights of Woe! 

Truth is her motto — truth to history 

And truth to human nature too — pardie! 

"The Hazard of the Die" 



The Last Days of the Roman Republic 






Chorus loquitur. 


The grand Mario vian line is surely mine 

'Tis Marlowe's heir we are more than Shakspeare's 

But Shakspeare's Psychology is mine — my mine! 

For th' rest we're Marlowe — plus our riper years. 

Thus th' English drama's incarnate in me 

Of it's two Prophets we the mantle wear 

Shakspeare's knowledge of man therein you see 

AVhilst Marlowe's thunder fills the ambient air. 

With Marlowe's passion doth fill up our cup 

Of his heroic mould our heroes be 

While Passion's cup our heroines fill up 

The truth of this the d — dest fool may see. 

"Deep calleth unto deep" within our plays 

And Marlowe's lightning on Shakspeare's moonlight plays. 


A Drama in Three Acts. 

Dramatis Personae. 

Lucius Sergius Catiline, Head of tJie Conspir'acy to over- 
throic the Roman Republic. 

Caius Julius Caesar, Candidate for Pon- 
tifex Maximus. 

Marcus Crassus, The richest Roman of 

Marcus Cornelius Lentulus, PatricianX Conspirators with 
Praetor {Chief Justice) of Rome.\ Catiline. 

Caius Cethegus, Patrician. 

Caius Sulla, Patrician., nephew of the 
Dictator Sulla. 

QuiNTus CuRius, Patrician. 

Caius Valerius Catullus, The great Roman lyric Poet. 

Caius Sallustius Crispus, Known to rrbodern times as Sal- 
lust; Roman Historian, Author of "The Conspiracy 
of Catiline." 

Marcus Tullius Cicero, Consul. 

PuBLius Clodius, Patrician, Democratic Politician; Organizer 
and Leader of a Band of Gladiators with which he 
terrorizes his Political Rivals. 

Titus Annius Milo, Patrician, Republican or Senatorial-poli- 
tician; Organizer and Leader of a Band of Gladiators 
in Opposition to Clodius. 

Vettius, a Spy in the pay of \Cicero. 

A Soothsayer. 

Aurelia Orestilla, ^¥ife of Catiline. 

Clodia, Sister of Clodius, Mistress of Catullus. 

FuLviA, Mistress of Quintus Curius. % 

Senators, Citizens, Gladiators and Soldiers. 

Time: The last days of the Roman Republic. 
Place: Rome. 


Act I. Scene I. 

A /Secluded Street In Rome. 
Time: Forenoon. 

Enter Catiline alone^ dressed in a toga. 

Cat.: Now by the Gods I'll do a deed of blood 

That certes shall trump my fame to the world's end. 
That shall the name of Catiline surround 
With nimbus dread of horror, and black death, 
With divine cloud of rapine and revenge, 
That knows no equal this side Phlegetkon! 
Methinks I see the city now aflame 
This haughty city, this proud conquering Kome, 
Who sets her foot upon wide breathing earth 
And bids the world yield tribute to her lust. 
Ha ! Thou great harlot I shall make thee writhe 
Squirm and contort thyself in Hellish pain 
When once my plans swift ripening gather head. 
Then let the haughty Senators beware — 
Those iron fools who knoAv no law but gain 
Whose daily thought and daily care are but 
How t' cause their crop of sesterce to increase 
To see two coin where was but one before. 
My purpose is to seize the government 
Snatch her grand reins from out the feeble hands 
Of Cicero, that old wife in man's garb. 
That self-sufficient upstart with a tongue 
A silver tongue I'll grant but only tongue 
Sans heart, sans eyes, sans skill sans all but tongue. 
A bigger coward never walked abroad 
Than that same smug-faced parvenu-poltroon. 
Some lusty spirits have I now in train — 
Caesar that easy bold voluptuary 
Whose heart's as cold as his dark lusts are hot 


Whose breath is power no matter how come by 
Whose morals are as easy as his ways. 
Suave, smooth, polite, e'er cordial Caesar is, 
An easy-going, smooth, good-natured man — 
But o' th' share o' th' spoil his must the lion's be. 
But master ne'er hath mst this Catiline. 
Fierce Caius Cethegus that soul of steel ! 
Ne'er saw I yet a firmer heart than his 
Danger's the trumpet that doth rouse his soul ! 
And Sulla hrother might be to Cethegus 
So firm his spirit and so sure his soul — 
The brightest jewels in my carcanet 
A ruby and a diamond they gleam ! 
Mark Crassus cometh next into our ken. 
A cold and calculating business-man 
Whose every thought is for his money-bags. 
But these same money-bags do have their use 
When 't comes to paying troops to win our cause. 
Next a bold spirit Quintus Curius 
Of proud ancestry and of courage high 
But curst mercurial and giv'n to talk. 
But if Adversity can steel the soul 
And burn out weakness in the fires of woe 
■No man should be more firm than Curius. 
Last the slow-moving haughty Lentulus. 
The weakest blade in all my armoury 
But great his station and grand his mighty gens 
Cornelian — Sulla's own — my late great chief's, 
With such a galaxy of jewels rare 
I'll deck my diadem of Lord of Rome — 
Hist ! Who comes here followed by martial tramp ? 

Enter Clodius Fully Armed at the Head o\f his Band of 
Gladiators, also Fully Armed with Sword and Shield. 

Well met bold son of Mars, well met, I say. And you 
sout fellows {Making a Military Salute to the Gladi- 
ators who^ Drawing Swords arid Saluting Catiline, 
form a Line o\f^ Battle across the Stage and Stand at 
'^Attention^^ with Drawn Stvords) bid ye welcome, 


Clod.: My Catiline, how wags the world with thee? 
Cat. : E'en passing well, bold Clodius, passing well. 
Clod. : 'Tis well. Hast any news to tender me to-day ? 
Cat. : None, Clodius, none. The times with me are dull. 
Clod. : Ha ! Say you so. Methought that Catiline 

Ne'er rested day or night from plot or scheme — far die. 
Cat. : Than Catiline is no man more maligned 

Believe me Clodius, none — not one sole one. 
Clod. : Well, I must jog for Milo is agog. 

His band doth prowl the Forum, so I'm told. 
Cat. : Be cautious here you clash with that same man. 

Your band's too precious to be risked in brawl. 
Clod.: We know our worth — eh soldiers? 
Gladiators: {^Clashing their Swords against their Shields). 

That we do ! 
Cat.: I'll jog with you my home you know's hard by. 

(Catiline and Clodius put themselves at the Head of tM 
Band and exeunt) . 

Act I. Scene II. 

Garden In The House Of Catullus. 
Time: Afternoon. About Sunset. Same Day. 

Clodia Reclining on a Couch under an Arhour — Embow- 
ered in Roses — to the right of the stage., Catullus Kneeling by 
her Side. 

CatuL: My sweetest girl my soul doth long for thee, 
As longs the winter for the summer's sun. 

Clo. : For shame my lusty Caius for shame now 

Thou knowest that thou liest when thou speak'st, 
For I full well do know thy truant mind 
And how thou soarest like a bird of prey 
E'er spying out some victim from on high. 
Thou know'st that I speak truth thou know'st I do. 

CatuL: Clodia, my darling, how cans't thou torture me? 
How cans't thou turn the knife within the wound 


Which thy sweet beauty makes within my heart? 

Clo. : Because, my Caius, it doth pleasure me 

To see thy precious face distraught with woe. 

You must remember that I female am, 

And therefore pain and pleasure e'er go hand in hand. 

Pain starts the pleasure, pleasure stops the pain 

What one begins the other stops withal 

Provided always that sweet love is there; 

Sweet love, that high priest of all mystery. 

That magic solvent which dissolves all doubts, 

All fears — all shudderings o' th' fearful soul. 

So kiss me, Caius, kiss me and forget 

That e'er thy Clodia dared to ruffle thee. 

Catul. : {Emhracing and Leaning Over Her) — 
Ah ! Clodia, darling, thou dost fire my soul 
With all the joys and pangs that Ecstacy 
E'er gathered in her hand to terrify, 
And joy the lovers who did worship her. 

Clo. : Dear Caius, my heart bleeds to tear thee thus, 
To tear thy generous and fieiy soul, 
That I may hear thy poet's words gush forth 
Like drops of blood from out thy tortured heart, 
But trust me, Caius, I do love thee so. 
That didst thou guess the sum thou'dst happy be. 
So kiss me, darling, and forgive me sweet. 

Catul. : Kiss thee, my love ! Would that the rest of life 
Did but consist of kissing thy rich lips. 
Those lips, that like the petals of the rose, 
Unfold upon the impress of the sun. 
{Kisses her). 

Clo. : My Caius, thou dost make me almost wish 
That I were maid once more and free to wed. 
You start. Perchance you wonder at my words, 
Perchance you wonder that I do not yearn 
To be a maid once more and laiow no more 
Of Love and her sweet mysteries divine, "^ 

Than did your Clodia ere she married was. 
You men do know no more of a sweet maiden's thoughts 
Of a sweet maiden gently nurtured, nobly raised, 
Than men do know what the Immortals think — 


Of what vast thoughts do pass thro' Jove"s great brain, 

Or enter the calm mind of Juno queen 

Of all the heavenly host Olympus-ward. 

No Caius, man's gross mind can never guess, 

The vague dim thoughts that paint a maiden's dream, 

Her dream of Love — of Love and Mystery — 

The m^^stery of Passion and the pangs 

That hover o'er the door that bars the heart ! 

You men heing but men guess not the things 

That make up love in a pure maiden's soul; 

Such being so you wonder why I wish 

To be a maid of innocence once more 

Instead of what I am, a Eoman's wife, 

And at the time a Roman poet's love. 

A Roman wife in these degenerate days 

When the Republic staggers to her fall 

Must needs have lovers or be bored withal — 

Unless that husband mayhap be a man 

Who towers to the height of Catiline, 

That giant schemer in affairs of State, 

And dare-devil gambler in afairs of death! 

A man like Catiline — of his great mold 

Miglit well amuse whimseyist-mooded maid 

That e'er exchanged a snood for matron's garb — 

Catul. : Ha ! There you stab, Clodia, to the heart, 
I have been patient — vntness that I have 
I let 5^ou name that fiend and held my peace. 
But now I cry you mercy. Hold ! Enough. 

Clo. : Fiend! And for wliat! For putting his just rights 
Of life and death upon his son in force ? 
The law allows that he's sole judge of that. 
Well now let's glimpse the son. A sullen lout, 
Mulish and obstinate as Spanish mule. 
Timid withal, and sure to bring disgrace 
Upon the noble name of Catiline if 'd lived. 
Cold hearted, churlish, dull and weak he was 
As ever yet saw I in man's shape stand. 
How Catiline e'er Fathere'd such a clown 
The God's in their omniscience only know. 
Aurelia Orestilla, Catiline 


Did love. His wife beinij dead he wooed her. 

Aurelia proud and haughty as her name 

Exalted as her rank, high as her wealth, 

Despised the prospect of such incubus 

And frankly told bold Catiline her views — 

Either his son must go or his love-suit. 

A recent quarrel — one of many brawls 

Twixt brilliant parent and most brutish son — 

Furnished the impulse needed for the deed 

And the earth closed over that dark episode. 

I grant you it sounds hard, hard as the name 

Of Eoman ever stood before the world. 

But law is law, and law backs Catiline. 
Catul. : So help me Mercury ! My Clodia 

Ne'er heard I yet a pleader at the bar, 

I bar not one! Not Julius Caesar — aye! 

Nor great Hortensius, nor Cicero, 

Not Marcus Tullius, tlie voice of Rome^ 

Ne'er heard I orator to equal thee 

In daring, in audacity and skill 

At championing a case most desperate. 
Clo. : The cause is not so desperate as it sounds. 

The law that gives the Parent right of life 

And death o'er his own offspring that is desperate 

As desyerate a law as e'er was horn 

In the foul ptirlieus of the human heart. 

But I must leave thee my Valerius 

And to my stolid husband haste me home. 
Catul. : 'Tis well my sweet since Cicero doth come 

Accompanied by suave Sallustius 
To consult with me o'er some recent things 

Which each within his separate domain 

Of letters hath achieved by his Muse. 
Clo.: Farewell and Venus keep thee till we meet again. 
Catul. : {Embracing her as she rises and moves off the stage\~ 

Farewell my heart to Jove I thee commend. 

{Exit Clodia). 
{TaMng a Roll of Manuscript from a Small Table near) — 

Let me now seize the few swift bits of time 

That yet remain ere mentor Cicero 


And smooth Sallustius Crispus shall appear. 

{Plunges into the Manuscript after Seating Himself on 

the Em-pty Couch. 
Enter Cicero and Caius Sallustius Crispus, Preceded hy 
Lictors Beanng Fasces. Catullus Rises and Greets 
each €ordicdly. Each Seats Himself on a Chair and 
Pulls out a Manuscript from, the Folds of his Toga. 
Catullus — After the Couch has l>een Declined ty 
Each^— Seats Himself upon Same). 
Cic. : My worthy poet how inspires the Muse? 
Catul. : My stern mentor the Muse hath gracious been. 
Cic: Prithee salute us with Her music then. 
Catul.: Right gladly master mine. Lend now thine ear. 

To Marcus Tullius Cicero. 

"Marcus Tullius, most eloquent of the race 
Of Romulus, of all that are, that have been 
And that shall be in future years, Catullus 
Thanks you heartily. Catullus the worst 
Of poets — as much the worst of poets 
As you are the best of all advocates. 
Cic. : 'Tis well. "Best of all advocates.'' is well 

That line doth paint thy master and thy friend. 
That little gem 1*11 carry to my grave 
Hand me *t Catullus an you love me now ! 

{Hands Manuscript to Cicero loho Smilingly Peruses 
Catul. : Thine Eloquence hath won thee that small mead 
Of praise from thy victorious client 
Through thy force of oratory thy strength — 
Which won his cause which thou didst champion. 
Sal.: My Catullus that little gem doth shine 
Like diamond upon finger of a king. 
Prithee indite me one as brilliant in it's gleam. 
Catul. : With all my heart. Sallustius mark thee now 

{Taldng a set of Writing Tablets and Stylus out of a 
fold of his Toga and After a Momenfs Thought Writ- 


To Caius Sallustius Crtspus. 
As Cicero doth wield a champion's tongue 
The tongue of orator and advocate 
jSo o'er Sallusts' door is victor's garland hung 
As the historian of Rome's mighty State. 

Sal.: {Starting vp and Grasping the TahUts). 
By Bacchus my Catullus that is fine I 
As fine a ring hath that as rich a tone 
As divine Homer's own wave-echoing roar! 

Cic. : He doth not flatter thee I do assert. 

As judge of letters I that judgment give. 

Catul. : {Bowing his acknoivledgments) . 
As favour new I crave a specimen 
Of what his Muse hath given to each one — 
Since last we did foregather in this place. 

Sal. : Let mighty Cicero be first in this. 

Cic. : Agreed, Sallustius, I'll e'en now begin. 

(Cicero Unfolds the Roll he had Taken from his Toga 
on Entering and Reads) — 

Epitaph For The Tomb Of MARcrs Tullitjs CicepvO. 
Here lies the dust of Rome's protecting tongue, 
Tongue of Marcus Tullius Cicero; 
Whose accents firm did guide the Ship of State 
Amidst the perils of these darksome days. 
Bold were it's accents as his heart was firm. 
Calm and undaunted midst a sea of fears ! 
A Roman he of antique mold indeed. 
Who set the fashion of a nobler day. 
Sal. : As true as modest ! Modest 'tis as true. 
Catul.: {Aside). Modest! Ha! {Alond). Simplicity itself 
spoke there! 
Give me a man who spurns a flattering tongue, 
Give me that man — I'll name him Cicero ! 

(Cicero Boies Complacently. Sallust Glances Furtively 
at Catullus to Discover 'Whether the Latter is Jok- 
ing or not. Catullus Preserves a Sphinx-like Coun- 
tenance^ and Gravely Continues.) 
Our mighty m.aster's soul cd>hors such things 
His Roman virtue tramvles on conceit ! 


Catul. : {Aware that Sallust is Watching Him, and to Throw 
Dust in His Eyes^ Catullus Breahs ojf Sud- 
denly and Turning and Looking Sallust 
Straight in the Eye with a Sternly Straight 
Face, says) : 
Sallustius Crispus render up the spoil 
That thy most mighty Muse vouchsafed to thee. 

(Sallust Bowing and EnjoMing the Roll he had 
taken from his Toga reads) : 

Lircius SERGirs Catilixe. 
f'Lucius Catiline was a man of ncble birth, and 
of eminent mental and personal endowments; 
but of a vicious and depraved disposition. His 
delight from his youth, had been in civil com- 
motions, bloodshed, robbery and sedition; and 
in such scenes he had spent his early years. His 
constitution could endure hunger, want of 
sleep, and cold, to a degree surpassing belief. 
His mind was daring, subtle, versatile, capable 
of pretending or dissembling whatever he 
wished. "ft 

^Sallust's — The Conspiracy of Catiline. (Translation found in 
Bohn's Library.) 

■'"tThe preceding year liad been marked bj- the appearance of a 
man destined to an infamous notoriety, L. Sergius Catilina, familiar 
to all under the name of Catiline. 

For some time after the death of Sulla the weariness and desire 
of repose which always follows revolutionary movements had dis- 
posed all men to acquiesce in the rule established by the Dictator. 
But more than one class of persons found themselves ill at ease. The 
families proscribed by Sulla cherished the tlio\7a;lit that tbev ^night 
recover what they had lost, and the enthusiasm displayed when Caesar 
restored the trophies of Marius revealed to the Senate the numbers 
and the reviving hopes of their political enemies. Besides, there were 
a vast number of persons, formerly attached to Sulla, who shared 
their discontent. The Dictator left all real power in the hands of a 
few great families. His own creatures were allowed to amass money, 
but remained without political power; and soon after his death they 
found themselves reduced to obscurity. With the recklessness of men 
who had become suddenly rich, they had squandered their fortunes 
as lightly as they had won them. These men were for the most part 
soldiers, and ready for any violence. They only wanted chiefs. These 
chiefs they found among the profligate meni'^ers of noble fpmilies. 
who like themselves, were excluded from the counsels of the re- 
spectable, though narrow-minded men, who composed the Senate and 
administered the government. These were the young nobles, effeminate 



Cic. : I confess scant justice him you clo. 

A mighty soul hath Catiline in truth, 

Loyal to friends unto the very death 

A stranger too to pettiness in ought 

To meanness or hypocrisy a foe. 

Remember his wild youth in Sulla's day 

When blood did flow like water through Rome's 

When bloodshed was the trade of all who lived. 

The times do malm the man. Bear that in m^ind. 
Sal. : 'Tis true, great master. What you say is true. 

My Muse did draw the long bow in those lines. 
Catul. : Permit me to dissent. I praise the Muse. 
Cic. : Enough of this, the time draws on apace, 

And I must hence upon affairs of State. 
Catul. : Farewell great master till we meet again. 
Cic. : Farewell. 
Sal.: {To Catullus) — 

Farewell, most eloquent of poet-kings. 
Catul. : Farewell. 


and debauched, reckless of blood, of whom Cicero speaks with horror. 
Of these adventurers Catiline was the most remarkable. He be- 
longed to an old Patrician Gens. A beautiful and profligate lady, by 
name Aurelia Orestilla, refused his proffered hand' because he had a 
grown-up son by a former marriage; this son speedily ceased to live. 
Notwithstanding his crimes, the personal qualities of Catiline gave 
him great ascendency over all who came in contact with him. His 
strength and activity were such, that he was superior to the soldiers 
at their own exercises, and could encounter skilled gladiators with 
their own weapons. His manners were frank, and he was never known 
to desert Ms friends. By qualities so nearly resembling virtues, it 
is not strange that he deceived many, and obtained mastery over 
more. He had already served as Praetor in the city, had then be- 
come Governor of the Province of Africa. — The Students Rome— 
(A History of Rome) By Henry G. Liddell, D. D., Dean of Christ 
Church, Oxford. 


Act I. .^CEXE lil. 

The H€m^€ of Catiliiie. 
TiwM!' Dark. Smne Day. 

C^tiliiie Dimorered Red'mmg upcm a i&meh after 
ISupper. Aufelia Or^tilk ©» Amaiker Cauck. 
A'^Tom the Tdble^ appomte hitm^ 
CH, -Aureiia I zr — ~t r - f the wor! i. 

Come twizLr zzj : z.!:! angers in zit "--.-r. 
AnreL: {Rimmg atkd Kmeelmg Dawn, at the Head of hit 
Ccmeh amd Gettdy StroMmg kss Forehead and 

My Servins. tell t:i~ 5~~:lrir: — li: is — rzr. 

What goes anlis^ : zid plans i 

Cat^: I fear me smne r 5„ : r : t :T tl^ g^nie. 

Some baUer to L: y : - - :::_: r ::it. 

Ere I have gather t r - . 

Th? 7^z^e-proiid S-ciL : . I :_ t : r. 

' z. '^ 1:1:115 Cnriiis I J 

7 , i^sto--pitiflig : 7 > sonl 

T : — r'lat cOTm 1 1 : 7 

Az^ 11 It TnbotE' - - 

She'd worm it from - -:. :f day! 

A:r^' ?7- ^tTgios. permit n 

7^ : 5ir a man of y : : _^ 1 :- :r 

A riddle lite 1 ' 1t ^ it - 

: 7^7toftt s! 

A 1^1 1 - r levity i ;. 1 i:_z i. :__:. 

7 r 1 - mastery o"er his impudence, 

'i^ r :bly of his secret tilings 

A- _r _ --»o9e entmsled him. 

My L I 3 my inmost #ewZ 

Oi - - _ -^ 1 en thcMi didst haiboor him. 

Cat: A ^^^i^eJL I bhmdered there. 

T ibonL When the plot was yoong, 

Ar t nve names to connt npim. 

Q 1 : »is approached me for a loan. 

H> :s and insults at the Soiate^s hands 


Which expelled him when it itself was worse — 
Held names more black than Quintus Curius' — 
Did deeply touch my heart. Besides he's brave, 
Marcus Curius Dentatus' blood's in him — 
The breed the rugged Pyrrhus did confront — 
And — for the time at least — hate made him stem. 
Methought his deadly wrongs at the Senate's hands 
Had nerved his soul forever 'gainst those men — 
That hate would tie his tongue, ballast his mind. 
And make him worthy of our company. 

Aurel. : I pray the Gods, my Sergius, it be so. 

Cat.: {Sighing) — 

No earthly interest could divert his mind, 
His every earthly interest is with us — 
Power, revenge, wealth, fame, and ease and all 
That makes this weary world a paradise, 

(Taking her Hand and Stroking it). 
When there be added to it thy sweet love. 

Aurel. : Dear, my lord, I thank thee for that little word — 
That love crept in with thy dark mind aflame 
With doubt, and wrestling strong 'gainst treachery 
Within thy ranks, and y^i sweet love crept in. 

Cat.: Thou art the star that lightens my dark life 
Aurelia. Thy sweet face, thy beauty glorious, 
Shed o'er my tragic life a ray serene 
That makes life worth the struggle and the pain 
That it hath ever been to Catiline. 

{Knocking heard). 
Who knocks? 

Slave: {Enteri/ng and toroing). 

My lord, six men close-muifled, with their faces hid 
In their toga-folds, who will not give their names. 

Cat.: {Aside to Aurelia) — 

The numbers's right 'tis the Conspirators. 

Aurel.: {Aside to Catiline) — 

My lord, had you not best be sure — I fear — 

Cat.: {Smilingly aside) — 


Assassination: There be no six in Home, 
E'en ofladiators dare that contract sim.-f 


"^Catiline, when "ne saTv that he was surrounded oy nionniains and 
by hostile forces, that his schemes in the citv had been unsuccessful, 
and that there was no hope either of escape or of succour, thinking 
it best, in such circumstances, to try the fortune of a battle, resolved 
upon engaging, as speedily as possible, with Antonius. Having, there- 
fore, assembled his troops, he addressed them in the following manner: 

LVIII, "T am well aware soldiers, that words cannot inspire 
courage: and that a spiritless army cannot be rendered active, or a 
timid army valiant, bj the speech of its commander. Whatever courage 
is in the heart of a man, whether from nature or from habit, so much 
will be shown by him in the field: and on him whom neither glory 
nor danger can move, exhortation is bestowed in vain; for the terror 
in his breast stops his ears. 

"I have called you together, however, to give you a few instruc- 
tions, and to explain to you, at the same time, my reasons for the 
course which I have adopted 

"Wfiithergoever we icould go. ice must open a passage with our 
stcord-s. I conjure you, therefore, to maintain a Irave and resolute 
spirit: and to remember, when you advance to battle, that on your 
own right hands depend (In dextris portare. ""'That you carry in your 
right hands") riches, honour, and glory, with the enjoyment of your 
liberty and of your country. If we coniuer. all will be safe: we shall 
have provisions in abundance: and the colonies and corporate towns 
"Will open their gates to us. But if we lose the victory through want 
of courage, these same places will turn against us: for neither place 
nor friend will protect him whom his arms have not protected.'' 

"TTe might, with the utmost ignominy, have passed the rest of our 
days in exile. Some of you, after losing your property, might have 
waited at Rome for assistance from others. But tiecause such a life, 
to m'^n of spirit, icas disgusting and unendurable, yon resolved upon 
your present course. If you wish to quit it. uou must exert all your 
resolution, for none hut conquerors have exchanged icar for peac^. To 
hope for safety in Sight, when you have turned away from the enemy 
the arms by which the bodv is defended, is indeed madness. In battle, 
those who are most afraid are always in most danger: but courage 
is equivalent to a rampart. 

"When I contemplate you. soldiers, and when I consider your 
past exploits, a strong hope of victory animates me. Your spirit, your 
age. your xaJlour. give me confidence: to say nothing of necessity, 
ichich malces even coicards "brave. To prevent the numbers of the 
enem.y from surrounding us. our conp.ned situation is su^icient. But 
should fortune be unjust to your valour, take care not to lose your 
lives unavenged: take care not to be taken and butchered like cattle. 
rather than, fighting like men, to leave your enemies a bloody and 
mournful victory." 

LIX- When he had thus spoken, he ordered, after a short delay, 
the signal for battle to be sounded, and led down his troops, in regu- 
lar order, to the level ground. Having then sent away the horses of 
all the cavalry, in order to increase the men's courage by making 
their danger equal, he himself, on foot, drew up his troops suitably 
to their numbers and the nature of the sround. 


Aiirel. : \Regaining her usual calm air) — 

I know thy prowess and I fear no more 
Thou hast recalled the fame of Catiline. 

(Catiline ibises and Conducts 11 er to the Door^ Kiss- 
ing her Hand as he Leaves Tier.) 
{To slave) : You may admit the men. 
Slave: I go, my lord. 

Cat. : Now for a wizard's eye to plumb the souls 
Of these six men who hold my life in fee ! 

{Enter Julius Caesar, Marcus Crassus, Marcus Cor- 
nelius Lentulus, Caius Cethegus, Caius Sulla, and 
Quintus Curius, All Closely Mujfled). 
Will ye have couches brought? 

As a plain stretched between the mountains on the left, with a 
rugged rock on the right, he placed eight cohorts in front, and sta- 
tioned the rest of his force, in close order, in the rear. 

LX. When he had made a complete survey, he gave the signal 
with the 'trumpet, and ordered the cohorts to advance slowly. The 
army of the enemy followed his example; and when they approached 
80 near that the action could be commenced by the light-armed troops, 
both sides, with a loud shout, rushed together in a furious charge. 
They threw aside their missiles, and fought only loith their swords. 
The veterans, calling to mind their deeds of old, engaged; fiercely in 
the closest combat. The enemy made an obstinate resistance; and 
both sides contended with the utmost fury, Catiline during this time, 
was exerting himself with his light troops in the front, sustaining 
such as were pressed, substituting fresh men for the wounded, attend- 
ing to every exigency, charging in person, wounding many an enemy, 
and performing at once the duties of a valiant -soldier and a skilful 

Manlius and the Faesulan, sivord in hand, were\ among the first 
that fell: and Catiline, when he saw his army routed, and himself left 
with a few supporters, rememl)ering his hirth and former dignity, 
rushed into the thickest of the enemy, ivhere he was slain, fighting to 
the last. 

LXI. When the battle was over, it was plainly seen what bold- 
ness, and what energy of spirit, had prevailed throughout the army 
of Catiline; for, almost everywhere, every soldier, after yielding up 
his hreath, covered tvith hi^^ corpse the spot which he had occupied 
when alive. A few, indeed, whom the praetorian cohort had dispersed, 
had fallen somewhat differently, but all loith vjounds in front. Catiline 
himself was found, far in advance of his men, among the deaS bodies 
of the enemy; he was not quite breathless, and still expressed in his 
countenance the fierceness of spirit which he had shown during his 
life. Of his whole army, neither in the battle nor in flight, was any 


Caes. : A chair for me a cnrule magistracy ! 

Cras. : \ 


Q I . ) A curule chair for all — twill suit us all. 

Cur. : ) 

Lent. : Not me, no chair Avas ever built suits me. 

Cat.: Take then the couch. I'll bear thee company. 

{The Conspirators seat themselves upon Ivory 
Chairs Inlaid with Grold^ standing against the 
walls. Lentulus reclining sloicly upon the couch 
cently occupied hy Aurelia. Catiline says'. 
"Bring wine." The slave makes an oheisance^ 
disappears and almost immediately reappears 
hear-ing an amphora^ which he jylaces upon the 
table before Catiline. He is followed by five 
other brawny slaves each bearing a large silver 
goblet in his right hand, vjhile in his left he 
bears an earthen-ware vessel filled ivith 
water. This each slave sets by the side of the 
goblet before each man at table. The major- 
domo, or first slave, then marshalls his men and 
awaits orders from Catiline. Catiline observing 
them, silently dismisses them with a wave of the 
hand. /So soon as the door closes the Conspira- 
tors discover their features. Catiline rises and 
goes the rounds of the toMe warmly grasping 
both hands of each Conspirator as he greets him. 
As he grasps those of Quintus Curius he gazes 
intently into his eyes with concentrated penetra- 
tion. Curius returns the gaze franlly and un- 
abashed. Catiline renews the pressure of his 
hands on those of the former and suppresses 
swiftly a rising sigh of relief. Be then resumes 
his place at the table. 

free-born citizen made prisoner, for they had spared their own lives 
no more than those of the enemy. 

Nor did the army of the Roman people obtain a joyful or blood- 
less victory; for all their bravest men were either killed in the battle, 
or left the field severely wounded. 

The Conspiracy of Catiline — Sallust (Bohn's Library). 


li'mng and saluting first Caesar, then Crassus, 
then Lentulus, then Cethegus, then Sulla, and 
then Ciu'ius, turns to Caesar, and says) — 

Prithee, be master of the feast to-night. 
Caes. : Right gladly, Sergiiis, shall I take that post. 

(Catiline thereupon pushes the amphora until It 
stops before Caesar's chair. Catline then re- 
clines and Caesar, after pouring out about half 
a goblet of wine from the aw.phora and mixing 
it one-half vnth water from the vessel for that 
purpose by his place^ takes the goblet in both 
hands and says before draining the cup) — 

"I pour libation for the feast to-night." 

{Immediately thereafter each Conspirator rises and 
walks with his goblet to Caesar's side^ who takes 
th^ goblet and fills it half full of unne. Each 
Conspirator thereupon regains his seat and pours 
in the proportion of water his taste suggests to 
dilute the wine — generally about one-half the 
amount of icater that Ms goblet held of wine. 
Caesar having replenished his goblet as before^ 
and diluted same, he and all the Conspirators rise 
and hold their goblets extended in both hands 
elevated before them to the full stretch of the 
arms. Caesar then says solemnly) — 

As master of this solemn feast to-night, 

I pour libation in the name of all 

Unto the God we now invoke — dread Mars. 

{All Solemnly Drain their Goblets, Replenish them 
as before, and, now that the Religious Ceremo- 
nies — so to speak — have been Performed, eaxih 
Helps Himself — Rising for that Purpose — froin 
the Mighty Amphora as his needs suggest and 
Without Further Formality. Upon their Re- 
gaining their Respective Seats after Caesar's Du- 
ties as Master of the Feast had been Discharged, 
Catiline once more Rises and Says) — 
Cat.: My noble friends our matters move apace. 

Our bold lieutenant, Caius Manlius — 

Backed by our stern ally the Faesulan — 


Hath Fasulse and all Etruria 

Ready to burst in tiame upon cur sign: 

But Testerdav a letter reached me 

From this bold spirit bearing this good news. 

{JJuir/virs of Appi'ocal fn'Om the Con-pii-ators ) . 
Two Legions full hath he. and fully armed. 
Of ancient complement — six thousand men 
Each ten cohorts six hundi-ed men doth boast. 
Xo army's to be fotmd in Italy 
Save only ours under stout Manlius. 
Slow Pompey in the East would have no time 
To balk our soldiers ere the prize were won. 
Fair Fortune smiles. The sacred eagle screams, 
(Pmnting jarst to Caesar and then to a Silver Eagle 
on Top of jooi Old Romtmr Standard of the Le- 
gions with an AUiO' of Marble huilt about it's 
Base. Standing at the Head of the Room.) 
The eagle that thine Uncle Marius 
Did lead against the Cimbri and Teutons 
And there did give him glorius : : :^. 
All's ready in the field. Here — ::i1t i.ere — 
Here in old Eome there's much remains to do. 
That mMch is d<trk. That much doth chill tr.z :^ ^ 
E?en Wiine. who, as a ymith^ called S^jJlo, Lord, 
And therefore took part in tlie massacres 
That made rim purple all the streets ef E-rme — 
I see you move uneasy in your seats. 
Caes. : Bold Catiline, thy words precurse grim things. 
Cat. : What if they do. no bolder gambler's here 

Amidst this chosen band slow cidled by me, 
From Rome's most daring spirits and her best, 
Her bluest-blooded men of high renown. 
Who worship Fortime and none other God 
SaTB Mars and Mercury from time to time 
As their occasions turn towards war or gold — 
Xo bolder gambler's found amongst this band 
Of chosen spirits for a high emprise — 
A band that boasts e'en Cains Cethegus 

(Pointing at Cethegus). 
No bolder spirit can be found than Caesar's. 


Caes.: Ye do me honour, mighty Catiline, 

Thou before whom Kome cowers to a man ! 
Save this most worthy company here met, 

{Smiling and Looking About him). 
Whom no three gladiators in all Rome 
Dare face in the arena sword to sword; 
Whom no three soldiers dare draw sword against. 

Cat.: You do me honour Caesar. To proceed. 

Ye know the time is ripe to do great deeds — 
Great deeds are born in blood ye all know that. 

{The Conspirators all Solemnly Bow in Assent). 
As blood doth mark man's coming in this world, 
As man doth leave his Mother clothed in blood, 
So mighty deeds do leave dread Action's womb 
Glitt'ring and dripping o'er with ruby blood. 
Ye know that life in Rome to-day doth hang 
Uncertain-wayward as a weathercock. 
Ye know that property hath hold as frail 
Since propert}^ dependeth on the law. 
And law for utterance depends on man. 
On a base judge, whom you or I may buy; 
Provided., only., loe've his pHce withal — 
My good friend, Crassus, why that crafty smile? 

Cras. : Because you speak from knowledge, Catiline. 

Cat. : A^Tiat if I do, friend Croesus minor, thou 
Hast bought a score of judges to my one 
For the best reason that this world doth hold — 
You had th' occasion and — you had the cash — 

Ceth. : He had you there. Mark Crassus — had you there ! 

{Laughing. All Join in the Laugh But Crassus, 
who Says Nothing and Looks Gloomy.) 

Cat. : Thy gloomy looks speak louder than could words 
T' unfold the goodly sums you've sunk in courts, 
To show blind Justice the right way to go. 
But pardon me, my worthy Senator, 
And take no offence from my friendly words. 
We all are bound like brothers to a cause. 
And each will bear from other — brothers all! 

Caes.: Well said, my Catiline, friend Crassus here 

Harbours no umbrage in his valiant breast. 


Cras. : Caesar thou saj^est well. I did but muse 
Upon investments that I have in hand, 
The name of money starts me like a hound 
To plunge upon the slot and track to lair. 

Cat.: 'Tis well. Indictment 'gainst vile Rome I now re- 
Ye know that the Republic is no more. 
Her — for good or ill — Marius did kill, 
Sulla thereafter held her funeral. 

Caes. : Well put and true. My uncle, Marius, 

Was not sole cause of this sad state of things, 
Great Sulla bears the burden — half and half. 

SuL; ril share the onus of my uncle's act, 

Nought did tie do that I do not appro've. 

Caes. : My good friend, Sulla, no offence is meant. 
Those deeds are buried in oblivion; 
We nephews should not quarrel o'er the parts 
That our great forbears played in history. 

Cur. : No more then I at this late date should slur 
Greece because Dentatus, my grim ancestor. 
Did shake the phalanx rugged Pyrrhus led. 

Cat.: Well spoj^en^ Curius! I now resume — 

Lent. : Not till I say that 'twixt these men I stand — 
Twixt Caesar and my kinsman, Sulla, here— 
As stands a Father 'twixt his own true sons. 
No man for the Dictator holds more pride 
Than doth Marcus Cornelius Lentulus; 
But for our Caesar here, none hath more love 
Than this descendant of the Scipios. 

SuL: Cousin, ne'er fear for me. No grudge e'er lurked 
Within that care-free chest — a Sulla's breast — 
Caesar — my hand — in token of my love. 

{Extending his hand in Caesar's direction across 
the tahle), 
Caes.: {Starting up from his chair and grasping it) — 

And mine my Sulla — of my amity. 
Cat. {Smiling happily) — 

The mighty waves that recent threatened foam, 
Have now i' th' ocean's bosom found their home. 


{Laughing good humouredly) — 
Affairs wag well when dire stem Catiline 
Doth offer incense to the magic Nine. 
As I have said, the only rub is here, 
And to rub that rub out, my noble friends. 
Will for hecatomb of Senators! 

{The Entire Body of Conspirators except Catiline 
Start. Instantly Each Conspirator Becomes Seri- 
ous^ and Emotions Running from Fear to Horror 
Sweep Over the Various Faces. Catiline Calm- 
ly^ But Penetratingly^ Regards First One Face — 
Until He Has Noted ifs Aspect — Then Passing 
on to the Next. In This Way He has Inspected 
the Entire Group of Conspirators Before a Word 
is Uttered^ and the Only Sound has heen the 
Deep Tense Breathing of the Conspirators as 
Catiline's Words Gradually Become Clear to 
Them; Or Here and There a Profound Sigh. 
Finally^ After He Has Inspected and Dissected 
the Thoughts and Emotions of Each of the Con- 
spirators, And After Waiting to See If Any One 
of Them \CaTes to Break the Stern Silence.^ And 
Upon Finding that No One Sho^ved the Slightest 
Inclination So To Do, Catiline Begins Slowly^ in 
Low Tones^ Freighted With Deep Feeling) — 
Think not mine august friends and colleagues high, 
Think not ye nobles of world-conquering Rome 
Coparceners with me in this Conspiracy 
That to this awful pass 1 lightly came. 
No ! Not till o'er the Mountains of Despair 
My flinty way I*d trod did I it reach. 
Ye know full well that no Republic stands. 
'Tis not in human nature that it should — 
That it should stand just simply this demands 
Each citizen must strive for th' public good. 
And when did man e'er strive for ought but gold, 
For place or power or for passion's love? 
Hence, in Republics every place is sold; 
Hence in Republics each court's the man above. 
Under an Empire — on the other hand, 


Th' Imperator chooses for the common good. 
Since the liepublic's wealth's his to command; 
Nought tempts him to do ought, but what he should. 
Fleavews an Empire ruled hy God the King^ 
Whafs good for Gods^ for men is no mean thing! 
Ceth : Bravo ! bold Catiline, the Muses now 
Inspire thee to lead our minds aright! 
The diadem full well becomes thy brow, 
For thy 'brow this golden circlet blazing hHght! 
'{\Carried awo.y hy inripetuosity^ instantly Cethegus 
starts up and darting across the room seizes a 
Golden Chaplet of Laurel Leaves Wrought in 
Gold Hanging about the Neck of the Silver 
Eagle on the Altar Aforesaid. And places Same 
Upon the Bro%o of Catiline, Who preserves a 
Face as Pale as Marble and as Inscrutable — All 
With the Exception of Caesar and Crassus 
Spring to Their Feet and Shout) — 
Ceth.: ^ 

Lent.: ! Ave Catilina Im.perator! 
Sul. : j Hail Catiline our mighty Emperor ! 
Cur. : 

Cat.: My friends, this honour almost strikes me dumb, 
{Smiling sarcastically). 
As dumb as Julius Caesar or Mark Crassus there. 
Permit me to observe never had I 
Or ghost or shadow^ of a thought of this. 
Ceth.: Nor I — I pledge my word. The Muses spoke! 
Caes. : {Aside — In Profound Meditation). 

The idea's strange but it doth like me well. 
This damned Eepublic bores me to the bone — 
Costs more to buy the votes of Democrats 
Than my supporters earn in one full year. 
And 'neath a Monarchy talents do thrive. 
Which an ingrate Republic starves to death. 
I'll back my talents and I'll take my chance! 

{Musing) — 
Catiline's no sons and older is than I 

{After a pause) — 
Why should not Caesar succeed Catiline — 


By Mars Vll risk the Hazard of the Die! 

{Aloud Jumping to his Feet and Shouting) — 

All hail our Emperor, great Catiline! 

Pardon my silence — but the thought was new. 
Cat. : Caesar, I welcome thee amongst the men — 

The Inner Circle — that shall rule Home's state. 

But still there lags Mark Crassus on the stage. 

Halting to mount our stage and rule the world ! 
Cras. : {Aside) — 

This likes me not. / would be emperor, 
{After a pause) — 

But then my property would be more safe 

Under an Empire and I near the King. 

And who can tell the turn of Fortune's wheel! 

Catiline's no heir — and he might die {With a covert 
smile) who knows — {Musing) 

With Catiline dead then Crassus might he King! 
{Aloud. Rising to his feet) 

Hail Catiline Imperator! Hail our King! 
Cat.: {Smiling quietly) — 

Good Crassus, thy adherence I accept, 

And trust thy pause hath cleared thy mind of doubt. 
Cras. : It hath my chief — it hath upon my soul. 

Firm do I stand for thy advancement high. 
Ceth. : And swift as high ! {Seizing a GoMet Filling and 
DTaining it) By Bacchus siuift as high! 
{Ail — Save Catiline — Filling and DrinJcing) — 

By Bacchus^ swift as high! 
Cat.: Mine august friends brief words but yet remain. 

Here is the schedule of our actions dread. 

Ye know the Senate are mere business-men 

Intent on gain and little else beside. 

And with them Liberty is but a name 

To catch the voter at the polls withal 

And merely something that one buys and sells. 

Ye know the fate they would accord to us 

Did they but know our intents here to-night. 

Therefore give them the fate they^d hand to us 

Death is that fate^ and death'^s the fate for them! 


{All the Co^aspirators sloicly how their heads in 
assent) . 
The Marian and Sullan massacres 

{Smiling sarcastically) — 
Afford the precedent the lawyers ask, 
Afford the ••precedent" that Cicero — 
That flat old woman-masquerade of man — 
Is always harping in the Senate House. 
Now no raore would I h'dl than needs must he 
To seize the government and v:ork our icill. 
The plan is this. The Senate doth convene 
Two days from now. 'Tis then the deed's t* be done. 
Clodius' gladiators with most of us 
Shall with the Senate work what Fate decrees. 
The other two with certain chosen men — 
Reserves of Clodius' band — tall fellows all — 
Shall fire the city at some dozen spots 
Wide separate and where the flames can be 
Easy confined by rasing houses near. 
This to prevent the people taking sides 
For or against us in the Senate fray. 
For their mercurial and shallow minds 
Will he so taJcen hy the sight of flames 
That they -will run like unto scared dogs 
To hear the crackle r the air! 
As our friend Crassus hath the most at stake 
By way of property in this our Eome. 
He with our Caesar shall this work command. 

{Handing Sheet of Parchment to the guest nearest 
him to he passed to Crassus sitting v:ith Caesar 
at the other end of the taMe). 
Here are the stations where the fires start. 
Now since affairs of men are on the lap 
Of the high Gods touching their fate on earth 
The Gods alone know what th' outcome will be. 
Hence I ne'er chances take unless I must. 
Therefore give ear — Caesar and Crassus there — 
Who now intently study the schedule — 
In case th' affray at th' Senate House goes wrong 


We count on thy strong aid to pull us through 
The straits and shallows that will then ensue. 
Ye must be friends at court — the Senate House — 
And with the people plead our cause with strength. 
Therefore see to it that ye are not seen 
About the fires when the flames begin. 
Entrust that to your freedmen tried and true, 
Whilst ye from out deep shadows breath commands. 
Your freedmen, too, must see that they're not seen. 
But — as you through them — work through strange 

Our deed once done, bold Manlius moves on Rome, 
And with his legions awes the Capital. 
All Italy will rise then as one man 
Far what — this side of Hell — weighs loith success/ 

Caes. : Nought, noble Catiline, nought on my word, 
(Looking about him) — 
I'd like to glimpse a sight of Pompey's face. 
When he first hears weVe mastered Italy. 
I'd like to meet that pompous cold ''new man" — 
That servant of the Senate — their smug slave — 
In shock of battle at a legion's head ! 

{Turning towards Catiline) — 
Thy plot's as perfect as a summer's day 
Spent on the slopes of purple Apennine, 
I'm all impatience for the game to start — 

Ceth. : \ 

Sul. : I And I ! And I ! And I ! All we the same. 

Cur.: j 

Lent. : Much would I like to see the game begin, 

The plot doth please me well — so simple, too ! 

Cras. : To my mind nought could better this same plot, 

{Pointing to Schedule he has heen Studying^ on 
which the Fire-Stations are set doion) — 
The stations chosen are the best in Rome, « 
No buildings of importance on the list 
And few of serious value to be found; 
None, by the way, impinge my property. 
(Catiline and the others smile discreetly). 


Cat. : And now. friends, one last word before we part. 
Be ever armed from this night on sans fail! 
Beneath your toga port a strong cuirass. 
Wear sword at side beneath your togas, too. 
Thus those who'd harm us shall most surely rue. 
Caes. : A counsel sage my cliief — I must confess — 
So Eoman am I that to carry arms 
Within the confines of our ancient Home 
Arms — aye — and armour — ne'er *d occur to me. 
Cras. : Th' advice is good. I've done both more than once. 
Cat. : In breaking up our conference now friends — 

Till next we meet at time and place I'll send — 
Pour a libation now to Victory, 
And as we do it face the eagle there. 

{The sojne Solemn Ceremony that hegan the Con- 
ference is repeated, Caesar Officiating — and as 
they simiiltaneously frst extend at arms length 
and then Drain their Gohtets it is in the direction 
of the SRver Eagle on the Altar). 

Act II. ScEXE I. 

The House Of Cicero. 
Time : Neo-t Day. Morning, 

(Library in Cicero's House. Cicero engaged in 
Writing Seated at a Table. Lounging nearhy 
are Catullus cmd- Sallust ear-h glancing over a 
Roll of Manuscript in his hand. A Spy in the 
L*ay of Cicero, one Vettius. is standing at a Dis- 
tan^e from the Group in an Attitude of Ohsequi- 
ous Attention). 
Cic: My worthy Vettius hast ought to say 

In this gi\ave matter against any else? 
Vet. : So please the Consul — yes — one other man 
But he's so high-placed I do fear to ope 
My lips upon a thenie so dangerous. 


Cic. : Good Vettiiis, speak out and know no fear, 
Know that the Consul Cicero's thy friend, 
Under my aegis thou ma3'*st safely speak. 
Vet. : If that be so I now shall ope my mouth, 

But warn your worship that surprise is near, 
Cic: {SmiUjig complacently) — 

Surprise is something I do never feel, 
My mighty station renders me immune. 
Vet. : The name dread Consul then I'll now impart, 
'Tis Caius Julius Caesar — no man less. 

(Cicero shrinks Bach with every Sign of Panic 
Painted on his Features. Catullus and Sallust 
Drop their 2Ianuscripts onto the Floor in their 
Amazement^ Recalled from their Reading hy the 
naine of Caesar). 
Cic. : By all the Gods ! Did my ears hear aright. 
Didst thou just utter Julius Caesar's name? 
Vet. : I did, great Consul, and I must again 

If the same question thou dost put to me. 
Catul. : Great master, why permit this wret<?hed thing 
To soil our friends, the aristocracy? 
To Catiline, and Sulla, Lentulus, 
And Cethegus, and Curius, he now 
Dares to bring in the mighty Julian gens, 
Methought the gens Cornelian might suffice. 
Cic. : My worthy pupil you must permit me 

To hold the tiller of the Ship of State. 
When thou art Consul thou may'st then essay 
The task you lightly offer to take on. 

(Sallust Conceals a Smile while Catullus Angrily 
Picks up his ManuscrijH and Prepares to Leave). 
Pardon my frankness, my most gifted friend, 
I spoke more pointedly than I had mind. 
Wound not thy master by departure now, 
But stay this subject out and then pray give 
Advice unto thy friend in this sore strait. 

(Catullus hows Silently and Resumes his Reading. 
Sallust has already Picked Up his Manuscript 
and is Immersed therein). 


What proof, good Vettius, hast thou in hand 
To offer in support of this grave charge. 
Vet.: The same great Consul that I first did give 
In support of my theme — conspiracy — 
To- wit, the letter dropped by Quintus Curius, 
Bearing the names I just did give to thee — 
Letter addressed to Lucius Catiline 
Asking that Catiline would straightway set 
Opposite each name of each conspirator 
The office and reward he'd give to him 
When victory did crown their scheme 'gainst Kome. 
This letter I most strangely have mislaid 
But trust securely to recover it. 
Meantime I brought your worship this great news 
Protected by thy pledge of secrecy. 
Cic. : What was the tone of this same letter, friend, 

Was't threatening-hostile or mere friendly chaff? 
Vet.: 'Twas far from hostile and 'twas far from chaff. 
It merely stated that he'd like to know 
"If time permitted the great Catiline" 
And so forth what I just did state to thee. 
There's one more name, your worship, on the list, 
I'll give if thou'lt protect my humble self. 
Cic: Speak without fear, my worthy Vettius. 
Vet.: Once more I warn thy worship 'gainst surprise. 
Cic. : How often, Vettius, must I tell thee 
The Consul is a stranger to surprise. 

(Catullus and Sallust Exchange Smiles, hut Re- 
main Silent) . 
Vet. : Then mighty Consul ^Crassus is the man 
The richest soul the sun doth shine upon. 

(Catullus and Sallust Start hack in Amazement 
and hoth hurst out in Shouts of Derisive Laugh- 
ter. Cicero Turns Pale and Shrinl's Back into 
his Chair in Surprise and Fear. Nothing is 
Heard for some moments hut the Shouts of 
Laughter of the Poet and the Historian. Pres- 
ently Catullus Says) — 
Catul. : Mehercule ! But this thing bursts the bounds 
Of reason and all probability ! 


Mark Crassus, who of all men on this earth 
Is interested in order and calm peace 
Through his vast holdings and his serried wealth — 
To be mixed up in a conspiracy 
With men like Catiline and Cethegus — 
Desperate spirits of a former day — 
When Sulla ruled the w^orld and ruled by blood ! 
Cic. : Good Vettius, I now shall bid thee go. 

Strive to recover that lost letter friend, 
And also strive — as thou dost ever do — 
To bring me gossip of the high and low. 
Meantime no w^ord of this to anyone. 

(Vettius hows in ^Cringing Fashion and Slinks of 
Pursued hy the Contemptuous Looks o\f Catullus 
amd Sallust. Fie has Scarcely Disappeared he- 
fore Female Voices are Heard and Fulvia, Ac- 
compoMied hy her Maid, enters Hurriedly^ Pre- 
ceded hy an Expostulating Slave). 
FuL: {Tothe^\2.MQ) — 

The Consul I icill see — and instantly! 

{To Cicero)— 
Marcus Tullius I come on things of State 
And beg thy private ear immediately. 

(Catullus and Sallust Exchange Amused Glances^ 
Bow to Cicero and the Lady who Smilingly Ac- 
knoioledges their Salute and Withdraw. Cicero 
Shoios Fulvia to a Chair and then Resumes his 
Seat. The Maid Remains Standing) . 
I have no time to waste in social words, 
A sword suspends above the Commonioealthl 

(Cicero Shivers and Turns Pcde). 
I see thy manh'' cheek doth bear the hue, 

' ( Smiling S areas ticcdly ) . 
That bespeaks interest in the words I say. 

(Cicero Reddens, hut says Nothing). 
I shall be brief for time doth press amain, 

{After a Pause and with Emharrassment) . 
Thou knows 't I am the friend of Curius. 

(Cicero hows). 
Last night he did return at dead of night 


In mood most haughty and imperious; 

Ne'er saw I him in mood like that before. 

He said that I had better mind my ways, 

And treat him with the requisite respect, 

"Or my fair head ^^ould leave my shoulders swift." 

Cic. : Ha ! Said he so ! Thy news amazeth me. 

Ful. : Not half so much as it did amaze me 

/ tell thee^ Consul^ mine hair stood on end! 
And then a frolic humour took him straight, 

{Blushing and with EmhajTassTnent) . 
He petted me and fondled me with zeal. 
WTien he had done he said, "My pretty dove, 
Who oft is like the eagle in her rage. 
If thou art complaisant and good to me 
Mountains and seas on thee I shall hestow — 
Seas in whose depths lurk pearls of orient 
That in their lustre the sunset surpass!" 

Cic. : Ha ! Thy new^s in truth sounds strange and ominous. 

Ful. : "Ominous," say est thou ! Now marh me well. 
Feeling that something was afoot I set 
In motion all my woman's arts of guile — 
Played on his passions, fed his vanity, 
Jostled his jealousy till he did writhe 
And roar aloud in anguish and in rage! 
I then did melt and fall into his arms. 
This turned the trick, and he gave up his soul! 
Told of a plot the like of which has ne'^er 
'Not since our toicrb of Rome was first laid out — 
So help me Venus, heen contrived' hy nfian! 

( Cicero Shudders ) . 
'Tis nothing short of make a demon King ! 
Eaise to the purple that fiend, Catiline ! 

Cic. (Cicero Falls Bach in his Chair. Raises his Hands 

to Heaven^ and Murmurs Faintly) — 
May all the Gods protect our city Eome, 
And ward the dangers that do now impend ! 
Great Father Jove defend the Capitol 
From this most monstrous man, this man of blood, 
Th' embodied incarnation of all crime ! 


Ful. : {Sneermgly) — 

Pray hard^ pray Consul, but do not pray too long — 
For this man Catiline doth not waste time; 
And when he strikes death follows in a trice. 

(Cicero Recovers his C omfosure loith Difficulty^ 
Swallowing Several Times^ and Moistening his 
Dry Lips icith his Tongue. Finally he Braces 
Himself in his Chair^ and Assuming an Air of 
Fortitude^ Says somewhat Falteringly) — 

Cic. : Pray Fulvia, tell all that thou dost know. 

Ful. : Briefly, 'tis this. This arch-fiend Catiline 

Hath knit a plot whose meshes are so strong 
That not one man who once is caught therein 
Hath any hope this side th' Elysian Fields ! 
He with fierce Cethegus and Lentulus, 
With Caius Sulla and — now mark these names — 
With Julius Caesar and Mark Crassus, too. 
Have formed a plan to seize th' Imperium, 
To seize all power — and vest it in themselves. 
How't 's to be done, or when, or by whose aid, 
I have not yet found out. My man waxed sleepy 
Ere he got to that, and nought that I could do — 

{Blushing and Hesitating). 
Could interest him — just turned his back and slept. 
To-day his mood was changed, and not one word, 
By hook or crook, could I coax out of him. 

Cic: One word, fair Fulvia, before you go. 
Have 3^ou and Curius ere fallen out? 

Ful. : Have we falPn out ! Have we ere fallen out ! 
Why Cicero, if thou didst know the times 
We have falFn out thoud'st shake thy sides with 

Cic, : And might I ask the reason for these wars, 
The reasons for these merry combatings? 

Ful. : The reason, Consul, was that I did lack 

The means to make life joyous and jocund 
I did lack gold — and hnow that vile lach stUl. 
'Twas lack of that drove love from out the doors 
Of Quintus Curius and let grief in. 


I threatened him I'd leave him presently 

Unless he did the needful coin supply 

For all my wants as gently nurtured girl. 

This made him mad almost, near turned his brain. 

For he doth love me in his careless way — 

He swore he'd find the means to hold my love 

And money did pour in straightway 'tis true — 

Borrowed presumably from Catiline, 

Since these two have been friends for long years past. 

Cic. : I see. my girl. 'Twas love of thy fair face — 

Which thou didst warn him nought but gold could 

Did drive thy lover to plunge deep in crime. 
This thing hath happed before. It is not new. 
Now here's my plan. I'll keep thee stocked with 

Gold, mind you, taken from the Treasury 
By me, as Consul on affairs of State — 
Provided thou wilt keep me swift informed 
Of each and every move of Catiline's. 

Ful. : But what if Curius' lips are ever dumb. 
If he won't talk, what then am I to do? 

Cio. : Leave that to chance. His lips must loose sometimes. 
But if they don't thy stipend — cut in tvjo — 
Shall reach thee, surely, every ninety days 
Till I have rid the earth of Catiline. 

Ful. : An earnest of that stipend give me now, 
Xot "cut in two" but lusty — vigorous. 

(Cicero Hands her a Purse of Gold which she 
Empties out on the TahJe Listening to the Ring 
of the Coin). 
That gold rings true. I'll take this and start in 
To be thy worthy spy, great Cicero. 
Before I go one word. ^V^ harm inust fall 
Upon the careless head of Curius. 

Cic. : Agreed. I'll save him when the trouble doth begin. 

Ful. : Farewell. 

Cic. : Farewell. 

{Enter Slave). 


Milo and band of gladiators stand 

Waiting orders from thy mighty self. 

Bid them come in. {Exit Siave). Now, brother 

Great High Priest of the Bona Dea, thou — 

I'll scan an engine that shall pull thee down. 
{Enter Milo in Full Armour with Drawn Sword 
and Shield Folloiced hy Ms Band of Gladiators 
jSimilarly Equipj)ed. Milo Salutes Cicero Si- 
lently, His Band does the same and Stand at 
Attention Behind Milo). 

I come, my Lord, thy bidding to obey. 

Welcome, stout Milo, and thy worthy band. 
{Aside) — 

By Mars the sight of these same brawny men 

Doth rouse my spirits from the drooping point. 

Methinks 'twould firm my heart and soul to see 

Sword counter sword in thrust and stroke and foin. 
{Aloud) — 

Good Milo, prithee, show me specimen 

Of thy band's tactics at the martial game. 

With pleasure, mighty Consul. 

{Turning to Gladiators who^ at a Motion of His 
Hand^ Separate into Two Groups Facing Each 
Other with Swards Draicn and Ready to Spring 
at One Another.) Men! Lay on! {The Gladi- 
ators Dash Upon One Another and Fight All 
Over the Room; Being Careful. However,, Not to 
Touch Anything hut each Other'^s Swords^ 
Shields and Armour — Avoiding C are f idly the 
Unarmed Portions of the Body. After Some 
Feio Minutes of this Cicero exclaims) — 

Enough, my trusty fellows. Hold! Enough! 

{The Gladiators Instantly Lower their Sicords and, 
Panting Deeply from their recent exertions^ But 
with Faces Absolutely Immohile and Impassive,, 
resume their former line and Come to Attention) . 

Ha ! Milo in these days — ^these doubtful days, 

When no man knows who's for or 'gainst the State; 

It doth one good to have such sturdy men — 


Men who at thrust and foin are nonpareil — 
Armed at one's beck to tread sedition down. 

(Milo hows his acknowledgments) . 
I summoned thee to say that thou must hold 
Thy band in readiness by day and night. 
No more shall I say now — there is no need, 
But hold your fellows armed and 'neath thine eye. 
Mil. : I shall, great Consul, and t^ake joy thereby. 
O ! That I might with Clodius meet in broil. 
O ! That our men might clash together in war's 
shock . 
Cic. : Mayhap thou 'It have thy wish. And now farewell, 
I prithee give this purse unto thy men. 
{Hands Milo a Well-Filled Ptirse). 
Mil.: {Taking purse) — 

I thank thee, Consul, for thy graciousness. 

{Turning to Gladiators) — 
Salute the Consul, men, before we go. 

(Gladiators Draw their Swords and Shout with 
One Accord) — 
Glad. : Long live our Consul ! Long live Cicero. 

{At a mation from Milo they then Form a Column 
and March Ojf the Stage Followed l>y him. He 
Salutes Cicero with his Sioord in Silence as he 
Marches Past. 


Act II. Scene II. 

Apartments Of Aurelia Orestilla : In The House Of Catiline. 

Time: Same Day. Late Afternoon. 

Aurel: {Alone^ sitting Lost in Thought. Her Head Lean- 
ing on her Hand) — 
My heart misgives me lest my Sergius 
Hath risked his happiness upon a die. 
His plans move smoothly and his mind is calm, 


But with so many knowing of the plot 
Which is to turn this city upside down — 
And with this mighty city turns the world — 
A danger always lurks of leakage dread. 
How 1 'm to stem that tide no man can say. 
I stand at Catiline's right hand in all he does, 
And never let a moment slip me by 
Without a word of caution on that head. 
He is the most supremest plotter e'er 
Did set his brain to scheme upon this earth; 
But lacking mighty wealth and the long train 
Of followers that tread the heels of wealth 
His choice of aids at first was limited. 

{After a pause) — 
Beshrew me how I dread vain Curius, 
Storm centre he of danger to this plot; 
I would give half my wealth — vast as that is — 
Were Quintus Curius not of the band. 
{Sighs deeply^ A Maid enters Hastily). 

Maid: The lady Clodia, doth wait below 

Who says her tidings will not brook delay. 

Aurel. : Conduct her hither with what speed ye may ; 
'{Exit 'Maid.) 
My soul misgives me and my blood grows cold, 
My woman's instinct tells me something's wrong. 

{Enter Clodia). 
My Clodia, my thanks for coming here, 
Thy presence breaks a brooding fit I had. 
{They erribrace warmly). 

Clo. : Dearest Aurelia, my heart Ueeds for thee. 
The news I bring is of the very worst. 

Aurel.: {^Starting hut then Immediately Recovering her 
usual Haughty CaVm) — 
The world w^e live in is a world of ChancOj 
Men are but footballs for the foot of Fate; « 

Hence, who hunts happiness doth take a chance 
That black Death strikes at either soon or late. 
Hence am I ever ready for the worst, 
And smile upon the evils the Gods send. 



Clo. : 'Tis well, my dearest, thy philosophy 
Is of so high a cast, so stoical 
That standing on the brink of the unknown, 
It yet preserves thy beauty all serene. 
My news is this. I'll give it in few words — 
The plot is out. 

(Aurelia at first does Not Move a Muscle, Present- 
ly a Disdainful Bmile Slowly Spreads over her 
\Calm^ Face) — 
You seem incredulous. 
Aurel. : My clearest friend a bit more explicit be 
Clo.: You play your cards i^'eZZ, m}^ Aurelia fair. 
Aurel. : What next, my dear, might I be Jjolcl to ask \ 
Clo. : Why simply this. Catullus my good friend — 
(Blushing and Smiling) — 
Was present at the Consul Cicero's 
When Vettius — a spy Catullus hates — f 
Came in and said he'd news of high iwiport. 
The Consul bid Catullus to remain. 
And Sallust, too — for both had called on him — 
So both did hear this plot most marvellous. 
Brief, Catiline hath joined to him a band 
Of men, the most illustrious in Eome, 
Including Caesar, Crassus, Lentulus, 
Caius Sulla, Curius and Cethegus — 
That last the fiercest man that walks to-day. 
Save only one whose name I shall not say 
A letter dropped by Curius was the clue 
That fell into the hands of Vettius. 

{At the name of Curius, Aurelia's Face Pales 
Slightly^ But Wo Other Sign of Emotion is Vis- 
Letter from Curius to Catiline, 

fTo you, stinking Vettius, if to^ any one, may be applied what is 
said to babblers and fools. Witb that tongvie of yours you may wipe 
cow-keepers shoes and nastier things yet, if you have occasion. 

If you wish utterly to destroy us all, Vettius, open your mouth; 
you will affect your purpose to a certainty. 

— Catullus. 
(From the Poems of Catullus. Translation found in Bohn's 





Aurel. : 

Asking his chief what honours would be named 
For each upon achieving their great scheme, 
And to set th' honours opposite each name 
Of each conspirator upon tlie list 
He did enclose. Nought else was there therein 
As to when, how, or where the plot would burst, 
Or just precisely what the plot would be. 

(Afte?' a Pause) — 
Clodia, I know that thou, dear, art my friend. 
But ere I comment on thy most strange news, 
I wish to search thy heart a little while. 
My heart's an open book to thee, my friend — 
The dearest friend I have of our own sex. 
Thou knotc^st — and few there be who do not guess — 
That I do love Catullus heart and soul. 
My stolid husband sole doth nought suspect. 
You know our Parents did arrange this match ' 

Which w^as as far from love-match as the poles. 
Wealth wished to add to wealth and that was all — 
''Twas marriage of two fortunes^ not two hearts^ 
And when a man does that he takes his chance. 

{Smilingly Ajf ectionately ) — 
My Clodia, thy fate did ever touch 
My happy heart — happy in Catiline, 
The most misjudged, and maligned ?nan 
That ivalks the streets of our Imperial Rome! 
A heart of gold hath he— time to his friends^ 
True as the steel of his e^er ready sword., 
Frank as the sunlight — as a lion hrave — 
Such is my King — such Sergius Catiline. 
Aureiia — did I not Valerius love 
With my whole soul excluding thought of all 
The race of men — that walk this teeming earth — 
I tell thee, dear, I would love Catiline — 
His mighty soul, his leonine dread heart 
That smiles in scorn upon a world of foes^- 
His generaVs mind that doth combine the threads 
And strands of actions and their subtle cause. 
Their moving impulses and passions dark 
That make the world the cauldron that it is. 


Seething and bubbling %vitb wcer. joys and death. 

TVith infamy and virtue intermixed 

Like wine and water in a vessel dark — 

Then holds these combined strands within his hand 

Ajid drices his chai'lot to the cU-tors goal! 

Such is thy lover — su<:h is Catiline. 

Aurel. : ( Aureiia Falls oa her- XecJ^ and Buries her Face 
on her- Breast). 
My darrling^ thy sweet words unman my soul. 
And weakness becomes not the wife of Catiline. 

[Recocering her Composure). 
Minerva guided thee in Ihy gi'and words 
With which thou didst descril^e my Catiline — 
A double purpose did these dear words fill. 
I'd said that I did wish to search thine heart. 
And thy true heart, my Clodia. did respond 
Unto my unspoke question in thy words. 
I wished to know the motive prompted thee 
T* incur the wrath of thy Valerius 
Should he e'er know that thou'st revealed to me 
The accusation of vile Vettius — 
That dog in human shape — that mangy cur. 
Who snaps in secret at the heels o* th' great. 

{They Seat thejnstlcts Side hy Side an a Couch). 

Clo. : (Emhracing her) — 

Before I go I have two things to say. 
Valerius did not impart to me 
The nevr^ I've given — it got I by chance — 
Twas thus. A week ago I my pet sparrow lost^ 
A darling bird that nestled in my bi'^ast. 


tLament. Loves and desires, and every man of refinement! My 
girl's sparrovr is dead, my girl's net sparrow, wtich she loved more 
than her own eyes: for ir. was a honeyed darling, and knew its mis- 
tress as well as my girl herself knew her Mother: nor did it ever 
depart from her breast, but hopping- about now hither, nov,- thither, 
would chirp ever more to its mistress only. Now does it go along the 
gloomy path to that region whence no one can return. Malediction 
to you! cruel glooms of Orcus, that devour all fair things; such a 
pretty sparrow! On your account my girl's eyes are now red and 
swollen with weeping. 

— Catullus. 

^From the Poems of Catullus, ihid. 


Fed from my hand and was my hearfs delight. 
I wept its death and was most deej) cast down. 
Valerius did visit us that day 
And swore by all the Gods he*d write a lay 
That would preserve my sparrow for all time, 
And send it fluttering down the centuries! 
He thereon named to-day to read the lay — 
Said he would have it ready by that time. 
So when he came to-day to read his song — 
His little lyric to my tiny bird — 

{Laughing and Blushing). 
My husband being out I hung on him, 
Clasping ni}^ hands about his rosy neck. 
As I did so a parchment did slip out 
His toga's folds, and fell upon the floor. 
Xeither observed it. But when he began 
To read his charming little funeral hymn 
Upon my darling little feathered friend, 
My eye did spy it unperceived by him. 
My woman's native curiosity 
Did pique me till — all unperceived by him — 
I'd mastered it and all of its contents 
Whilst he, oblivious to ought beside 
Was testing the numbers of his funeral hymn — 
Drumming with his slim fingers, line by line, 
To see the quantities were safe and sound. 
So soon as I did grasp what it contained — 
A digest of the plot as I've told jo\x — 
With list of the conspirators alleged — 
I hurst upon him for such calumny. 
He then explained the whole as I've told you. 
And urged me secrecy upon my life, 
Saying that Cicero had all intent 
To push this serious matter to a head. 
The last thing I must tell you is just this: 
Valerius told me that before they left. 
Who should appear in haste but Fulvia I 

(Aurelia Starts Aicay from Clodia and Turns Pale 
hut Hemains Calm) . 
What she did sav or whv she came's not Ivnown. 


And now ni}' sweet Aiuelia. I mu^t go. 

{They E nib race » . 
Aurel. : And may the Gods I'^ward thee for this call. 

\^E;tit Clodia). 
Now by the Gods that babbler Curius 
Hath told his leman evei-Athing he knows! 
Vi'ovXd I had thrust a Dagger in his heart 
When last he crossed this threshold — icoidd I had! 

I Gods what can I do to fend this woe 

And di'ive this deadly danger from my house. 
MineiTa ! Goddess.' Who from fi-ont of Jove 

{Kneeling before a Marhle Bust oj Miner c a on a 
Marble Pedestal^ and Eitending her Hands To- 
wards the Goddess in an Attitude of Passionate 
Supplication^ . 
Lept fully armed to rule this furious world 
Guide thou my actions from this moment on, 
Inspire my heart with words for Catiline. 
Words that shall make his hery nature heed. 
Words that may make his reckless spirit safe. 
(Catiline's Step heard Without). 
(Starting — a fid Rising Hastily) — 
Inspire me. Goddess, for I hear his tread. 
Cat. : {Enter Catiline. He Embraces her and Gazes 

Doicn Into Her Eyes with his Ar?ns About her). 
By all the Gods Aurelia. thou art fair I 
The fairest thing e'er was of woman kind. 
Aurel. : My Sergius. a dreadful piece of news 

1 have for thee — ihou Captain of my soul. 

Cat.: {Starting Angrily and Tncoluntarily Dropping his 

Hand upon his Sword Hilt^ Concealed beneath 
his Toga) — 
Xow woe to him who cause th thee this woe! 
Aurel. : That man is Curius — he hath told all. 
Cat. : {Springing Backwards Three Feet in a Bound, atid 

Glaring Savagely at her) — 
What! What sayest thou. Aurelia 1 What is this. 
Aurel. : In one brief word. Clodia hath just left — 

Give me thy pledge that nothing thou'k reveal 
Of what I am about to tell to thee. 


Cat: I pledge the honour of the Sergii. 

Aurel. : Tis well. Catullus recent called on Cicero, 
There Vettius appeared re letter found 
Which Curius had dropped addressed to thee. 
Written by Curius to thee to find 
What honours would be 'portioned to the band — 
When Fortune should reward your enterprise — 
With list of the conspirators enclosed — 
That opposite each name his gain might stand. 
Nought else was there. And no particulars. 
But something far more sinister than that 
Doth show its villain head and that is this: 
Ere he did leave dame Fulvia did arrive 
Panting with haste to say that she had news 
The Consul's ear must catch without delay. 
M}' Sergius, you now have all the threads 
Of this dark counterplot within thy hand. 

Cat. : {After a Pause^ Draunng Near once more^ Em- 

hracing Her^ LooMng Doion at Her as he 
Speaks) — 
My most wise darling! Where could Catiline 
Find an adviser like to thee on earth ! 
Thy soul prophetic spotted Curius 
As the one danger-point in my whole scheme, 
And no%v that danger-point hath burst in flame. 

Aurel.: {Slowly releasing herself) — 

My nohle Sergius ! Danger moves thee not. 

Th}^ lips are full as fierj^ as though 

You played the lover for the foremost time. 

And stood with me in some dim country lane 

Far from this Hell — this Rome — and free from care. 

Instead of which yon on Vesuvius stand. 

And that great crater rocJcs beneath thy feet ! 

So help me Venus I do love thee so^ 

That if thou diesf I wotdd rather die ^ 

Than live alone without my Catiline! 

Cat.: Aurelia, never say those words again. 

Thy happiness doth tower in my mind, 
As tower above the plain the Apennines. 
If I should lose the cast of these great dice 


In which I throw for th' Empire of the world — 

If I do lose — my fame will be so great 

That under it may rest thy widowhood 

As rests a traveller 'neath a desert palm 

When all Sahara blisters in the sun. 

My fame will be so dread and dark a thing 

Brave men will shrink fro' th' name of Catiline. 

For never yet had gambler such a stake 

As I do throw for in Imperial Rome! 

And if I lose, my end will be so dread, 

jSo many victims shall devour my sword — 

That round my corse a human hecatom^h 

Of Ronfian soldiers shall lie stark in death. 

So cheer thee up my Rose of Beauty's bloom 

So cheer thee up, and kiss thy Catiline. 

(Aurelia ^oho has Buried Her Head on his Breast 
Since he Began to Sjjeah of His Death, and has 
been Sohbing Silently, Dries her Eyes and Rais- 
ing Them to his Says) — 
Aurel. : My hero thou hast steeled my very soul! 
Till I am worthy to be called thy wife — 
Till History shall say, ^^ There was a spouse 
Worthy to be the bride of Catiline!" 
Cat. : If anything could make me despise death 
More than I do by nature and by will, 
'Twould be the sight of thy heroic soul, 

{Embraces her. Releasing her). 
Now darling to offset this counterplot. 



Act III. Scene I. 

A Secluded Street Near The Senate House. 
Tione: Morning, An Hour Before Noon The Next Bay. 

{Enter Curius and Fulvia). 

il. : May all the Gods preserve me from such speed ! 
Had I the heels of feathered Mercury, 
Had I his feather-tipped and flying heels 
Upon my honour I'd not fly so fast! 
Good Curius, I prithee, pity take, 
Upon a member of the weaker sex. 

ir. : {Gloomily) — 

The weaker ! By the Gods the stronger sex. 
Look what a thing thou'st made of me — a dog.^ 
A traitor and betrayer of my friend. 
So help me, Mars, I've more than half a mind 
To end thy life and then take my life, too, 

al. : {Alarmed.) — 

Sweet Quintus, for past love's sake, say not so. 

You know I loA^e thee if I do love gold. 

My husband squandered all my dowry — all! 

In living riotous — in wild debauch, 

And when the Gods in anger at his deeds 

Did take him off and rid me of his weight 

What was poor I — a widow lone to do, 

But make a living by her lover's aid. 

Thou knowest I was born to gentle ways. 

Was gently nurtured — am a noble's child ; 

Hence luxury became my vital breath 

And sans my luxuries I'd choke to death. 

Thou knowest I was ever true to thee. 

ir. : {Gloomily) — 

That I admit — that thou wast ever true. % 

il. : Jove bless thee for that word, my Quintus, dear ! 
So thou dost see, my darling, that the Fates — 
Dread Lachesis, Chlotho and Atropos — 
Did shoot a woof betwixt my life- web's warp 
That^ — as ye lawyers say — spelled ''''nolle pros.'''' 


Cur.: Myself I do despise. And I shall fly 

From thee and Eome, and home, and every man, 
And in a spot where no man shall me know 
Spend in seclusion the balance of life's span. 

Ful. : {Alarmed) — 

Thoud'st leave me sole in this cold world alone! 

Cur.: The crafty Cicero will pension thee 

As much — ^you've said — he did insinuate. 
And you have friends i' th' Senate — relatives, 
Nobles, who'd shelter thee most willingly — 
I do not say will glut thy cormorant's greed 
For jewels, satins, silks and luxuries 
As I have done. Now Fulvia do I go, 
My traveling carriage waits and I depart. 

Ful.: {Bursting into tears) — 

Great Juno, save me ! Is it thus we part. 

Cur.: {Coldly and sadly) — 

Fulvia, in me you see a man that's dead 
Sans hope of resurrection in this world. 
My manhood I did slay unwittingly 
When I divulged the plot thanks to thy wiles ; 
Who plaj^ed upon my passions of a man — 
As an attractive woman only can — 
TUl first I lost my head and then my soul^ 
Till I lost this world and all hope o' th' next. 
Now nothing's left but exile or self-death 
But suicide — which counter to my times 
Counter to Rome's traditions I dislike. 

Ful.: {Sadhj) — 

Quintus, forgive me, ere we part for aye. 
Let me one kiss implant on thy cold brow 
And tell me as I do so you forgive. 

Cur.: {Rov.sing himself from the Apathy Which has 

been Steadily Increasing During the Dialogue) — 
Willingly, my Fulvia. most willingly. 

{They Embrace. Her Presence O'VereoTning his 
Lethargy So that he Slotaly Tal^es Her in His 
Arms and, Kisses Her on the Lips Saying) — 
Mav all the Gods protect thee — my poor girl. 

(They Separate in Silence and Sadness — Each Go- 


ing jSloivly Different Ways and With Bowed 

(Enter Catiline AccoTnpanied hy the Entire Band 
of Conspirators Except Curius, Folloioed hy Clo- 
dius At the Head of his Gladiators). 
Cat.: (Raising his hand) — 

Here now we halt and hold our council brief. 

(The Column Comes to a Stand. Turning to Clod- 
ius) — 
Divide thy band, bold Clodius, in two. 
Command one portion and the other give 
Unto the most deep trusted of your men. 
Then take position at each head o' th' street 
And let none enter it on pain of death. 
Ciod. : 'Tis well, my Catiline. Bold Spartacus! 

(^Calling a Powerful and Battle- Scarred Veteran 
Gladiator to him) — 
Divide the band and take half to thyself 
The other I take — and this street we'll hold 
Against all citizens as trespassers 
Upon the ground defended by our swords. 
Spart. : Eight gladly, chief, thy bidding will I do. 

'Tis many a day since my sword hath drunk blood. 
I only hope that Milo and his men 
May have the luck to turn their heads this way — 
Clod.: By all the Gods I echo thajt same wish! 

What would I not give up to have that fight 
With crafty Milo who eludeth me — 
Caes. : ( L aughing ) — 

Claudius whispered 'tis that Cicero 
Hath Milo and his men so close mewed up — 
Around his person as his body-guard — 
That they are almost wild for exercise 
That like Numidian lions they do roar ^ 

And with their thunders make the welkin rvng ! 
Clod.: Would I could ring my chimes upon his sconce 

And wipe the score out that between us is. 
Cat. : Thou'rt likely, Clodius, to have thy wish. 
For by a spy I keep near Cicero 


Word's come to me that Milo and his band 
Will be deep hidden in the Senate house 
Waiting a blast to be by bugle blown 
By one of *s henchmen in the Senate hid 
When Cicero doth think the proper time 
To apprehend me and my friends hath come. 

'{The Conspirators Start in Surprise But Without 
the Slightest Sign of Fecu\ and Draw Closer and 
in a Circle Around Catiline, who Smiles in Tri- 
n^fifh on Seeing that his Friends Draw Closer to 
him Rather Than Aicay from him At the Newi^ 
of this New and Startling Danger). 
Caes. : ( Smiling ) — 

By Mars the sport bids fair to be most brisk. 
Cat. : It doth bold Caesar and with a vengeance, too. 
Clod. : Now by the Gods thy most, most happy news 

Jumps to my brain like rich Falernian ! 
Spnrt.: By Mars, my chiefs hut look upon thy m-en 

Thou^lt see the wine hath sptmng from thee to them! 
{A Stir Followed By a Low Deep Murmur of Ap- 
proval is Noticeahle Among the Gladiators, many 
of ichonfh Involuntarily Drop their Hands on 
their Sword Hilts — Some Even Half Drawing 
their Swords. Soon the Murmur Rises to a Roar 
and the Men Draw their Sicords and Shout — 
Raising the Folloicing Battle- Chant Or Hymn 
To Mars) — 
Glad. : A Clodius ! A Clodius ! A Clodius ! 

Mars is our Master — to Mars sole we bow 
Mars is our God — the only God we know. 
Lead us to hattle and we'^ll shoio thee how 
Our swords do mete out havoc amd fierce woe! 
Cat.: Bravo! Brave war dogs! Bravo! Dogs of war 
Who's backed by thee icith Fortune — wdll go far. 

{Turning to Clodius) — 
Withdraw thy men, time presses, Clodius. 
Pass througli the lines one who'll my signet show. 
Clod.: 'Tis well. I go. 

{The Two Bands March off in Opposite Directions. 
Catiline's Face is Pale as Death and his Bi^oxcs 


are Knit in a Characteristic Frown of the Think- 
er and Man of Action — When The Two Are— 
\Rarely — Combined— Which Was His Through 
Life — And Cl/iing To Him In Deaths— Being Im- 
planted On his Brow On the Occasion Of His 
Taking Off). 

Cat. : My faithful friends the time hath come to part. 

Caes. : How "part'- great Catiline — the die not thrown! 

Cat.: Thou sayest well, bold Caesar, 'tis not thrown. 

But from our dread dice-box fall the dice of death 
Now that a traitor hath divulged our plans. 
I briefly have already short made known 
The facts and cause of Curius' treachery. 

C^th. : I had attacked him but I could not find 
Or hide or hair or any trace of him. 

Cat.: A spy I've had upon him since his crime 
Informs me he will instantly leave Rome. 

Ceth. : Let us arrest him and cut off his head. 

Cat. : I'd thought of that until I found that he 
Was prey to a most deadly melancholy 
Which preys upon his heart and tortures him 
As vultures on God-like Prometheus once 
In the olden day at Jove's command did prey — 
Tearing his liver and devouring same — 
Because from Heav'n he brought down fire to man, 
And from a savage made him civilized. 
So Curius to th' vultures of the Gods 
Th' avenging Deities the Erinyes 
The Furies fell — the fierce Eumenides — 
Tisiphone, Alecto, Megaera — 
And the three Fates this traitor I consign. 

Sul. : And I acclaim thou dost sumpremely well. 
The gens Cornelian hath ever been 
The servitors of Fate — trusting therein. 

Lent. : My kinsman's words are sound as they are true. 
I highly do commend thee, Catiline. 

Caes.: My chief, I praise thy high philosophy. 

Tho' I do stand for th' office of Chief Priest— 
For Pontifex Maximus stand as candidate — 


Religion weighs not overmuch with me. 

To my mind all the world is ruled by Chance. 

So to my mind divine Philosophy 

Doth take religion's place as comforter. 

I praise thy stoical indifference 

Unto this action base of Curius. 

Cat.: There you mistake me, Caesar, by mj soul! 
'Tis not indifference that prompts to this 
For Curius I'd slay with mine own hand — 
If tracking him could bring me to his den — 
Did I not know that he doth suffer Hell. 

Ceth. : If that be so, I'll say I'm satisfied. 

Cras. : If that be so or not^ I do now move 

That we take instant steps to clear the air 
Of foul the dangers hovering overhead. 

Lent. : No point of order yet was ever made 

Since order e'er was known to mortal man 

Of more precise and perfect excellence 

Than this same point friend Crassus just now made. 

Cat.: {Smiling Sarcastically^ looking At Crassus and 

My worthy friends, fear not thy sacred skins 
Run slightest risk from this same moment on. 

Cras * 1 

"I How's that! '{Priching up their Ears Eagerly). 

Cras. : I yearn thy point, great Catiline, to catch. 

Cat.: {Smiling l)roadly) — 

The point is simply this. That from now on 
The brunt o' th' danger's borne by three men sole^ 
(Crassus and Lentulus Start with Pleased Surpnse. 
Caesar Starts Angrily and Looking at Cati- 
line Exclaims) — 

Caes. : Upon my life that deep amazeth me. 

Cat.: I thought as much, bold Caesar. Plear me out. 
The whole complexion of the plot is changed 
Now that the other side doth know our hand. 
The plot was triune ere this thing occurred. 
The Senate, this teeming City and — the field — 
The field — where Manlius and his legions be. 
The fi.rst two now eliminate do stand. 


One only now remains and that's — the field. 
No act of violence doth now impend — 
So far as our side is concerned at least — 
Within the confines of this city's walls. 
Heading my legions I shall march on Rome. 
But one thing still remains. Face Cicero, 
Who in the Senate will this very day 
Attack me as the head of this deep plot. 
I shall reply and scorn his paltry proofs — 
The word of Vet tins — that sneaking cur — 
And possibly a letter from the man 
The Fates have ta'en in hand — from Curius 
To me re honours, giving all your names — 
Of which you know — but stating nothing strictly 
Treasonable — the wording is too vague. 
Nothing from Curius bears actual weight 
Since he hath fled and therefore doth confess 
Himself afraid to face me with his words. 
Now nought of danger can come from said proofs 
They're far too slight and vagTie-chimerical. 
The only harm they do is balk our plot 
And put the Senators upon their guard. 
And therefore force us to now take the field; 
But if ought goes amiss we should straight have 
Pleaders at court — friends 'mongst the Senators, 
And none so high among the Senate stand 
As Caesar, Lentulus and Crassus here. 

{All Boio Assent But Caesar, who Still Shows 
High Dissatisfaction at the Programme). 
Now Caesar is the youngest of us here; 
I have no sons and none expect to have. 
Therefore to me hold Caesar shall be heir 
And 'Wear the diadem, lohich ye me gave. 
Only meantime it must not e'er appear 
That Caesar's to succeed me in this thing 
Until — on victory — I the garland wear. 
And Rome doth openly applaud me King. 
Till then our paths full separate should be 
As tho' in common nothinsr we did have. 




Caes. : 





So if the chance should come he may save me, 
And if not that, our common cause may save. 
Fro'' tJi' toreck of the Republic I aspire 
To raise the fabric grand of Rome's Empire! 

V {yiith a joyous shout) — 

Hail, Caesar, heir to Catiline, our King! 

Hail Caesar, Imperator ! Emperor ! 

{Amazed and the Prey to Emotion^ Shrinks Back- 
ward. Sioiftly he Recovers Himself and Kneels 
Before Catiline, Placing Catiline's Hand Upon 
His — Caesar's — Head^ Whereupon a Fresh Shout 
Breaks out. Still Kneeling — 

Great Catiline, to thy will do I bow. 

Rise, Caesar, heir to my Imperial hope. 
{Aside to Caesar) — 

Be on thy guard 'gainst- Crassus see — he mopes. 
{Enter a Venerable Old Man.^ of Respectable Ap- 
pearance.^ and Being Dressed As Though on a 
Journey and Bearing the Staff of a Traveller. 
He Approaches the Group Slowly and With Dig- 
nity^ Saluting Them he Says) — 

Which is Lucius Sergius Catiline? 

His sigret I possess, and here it is; 
{Showing a Signet Ring). 

Received by me in my P'truscan home 

By messenger bidding me to straightway come 

And tell the fortune of Catiline at Rome. 

Thou are the Etruscan Soothsayer, I see, 

And gladly do I welcome thee to Rome. 

Speak freely now my fortune 'fore these friends. 

First let me draAv a circle on the ground 

My soul to buttress from all worldly things. 
{Draws a €ircle On the Ground With his Staff) . 

I enter now the realm of Destiny, 
{Entering the Circle). 

And by my humble lips will speak the Fates 

Lachesis, and Clotho, Atropos — the Three — 

If to their sacred minds it seemeth well 


The future at this time t' reveal to me 
They who all things know in Earth, in Heaven, in 

(After a Brief Pause During Which He stands in 
an Erect hut Easy Attitude^ his Crossed Hands 
Resting on the Top of his Staff) — 
I feel the current coursing thro' my blood; 
/ feel the dread that precedes Atropos, 
Therefore the Fates I find in friendly mood; 
Hence waves of deep emotion my soul toss. 
/ now begin the Fate of Catiline. 
Ha! What is this I feel! The pang of death'^ 
To feel 'tis that — I sadly must incline 
For hardly do I draw my struggling breath. 

(Catiline Starts Slightly and Then Smiles Grirrdy, 
The Others Regard Him with Sympathetic In- 
terest Except Crassus, Who Appears Sullen and 
Lost in Thought. The Soothsayer continues) — 
The shock of battle shortly doth impend 
When blood will flow like water in the Spring 
But vast beginnings start from this sad end, 
A mighty Empire shortly shall up-spring. 

(Catiline and Caesar start Violently; Catiline 
Raises His Head^ Smiling Proudly. The Sooth- 
sayer Pauses^ Then Goes On) — 
No more the Fates will give no word will come 
Wait as I may, no answer is vouchsafed. 
So now I turn towards my Etruscan home. 
Trusting at my scant words thou art not chafed. 
Hail 'Catiline the Rather of a State 
Whose power'^s vast! Whose sunsetting is late. 
Caes. : \ 

Ceth. : / {All except Catiline and Crassus Shout in Uni- 
Sul. : / son) . 

L-ent. : / 

Hail! Catiline, our King and Emperor! 
The Soothsayers' words true are to the core. 
Cat. : My valiant friends, I thank thee from the heart. 
The time is up ! Or live or die we start. 
'{Handing the Soothsayer a Heavy Purse of Gold 
and Taking the Signet Ring in Exchange^ Say- 


Take this, my friend, you've performed well thy part 
And proved a master of thy most dread Art. 
My death you've presaged, and to death I go, 
But by the Gods I'm joyous — sans all care — 
Happy as bridegroom — full as free from woe — 
But of my jocund Sword let foe heware — 
For from my blood, an Empire vast will spring 
Ruling the world — o'ershadowing the earth 
And dying thus, thus Death doth crown me King. 
So of Imperial honour there's no dearth, 
I dedicate myself to th' Infernal Gods 

{Smiling grimly). 
That in the coming fight should give me odds. 
My Cethegus — ^my right hand in this thing. 
My fiery Cethegus — bring up the men; 
Sulla, thou art my left — as tried as true. 

(Sulla Bows Proudly. Upon the Approach of the 
Gladiators Catiline says) — 
Bold Clodius hold in reserve thy band 
Hard by the Senate House in sound of blast 
From bugle 'neath my toga, 'thwart my back. 
Three blasts upon that bugle blown will bring 
Thee and thy comrades to my aid pell mell! 

Clod. : It will my Lord. And swift as tiger's spring. 

Cat.: {Smilim^g Proudly) — 

'Tis well. And now one last word ere we go. 
Caesar and Lentulus and Crassus, too. 
Must hold yourselves aloof from ought that comes. 
To men of brains no further need of talk. 

{All Three Bow Assent. Caesar Reluctantly) . 
Your hands, all three^ — our compact stern to bind — 
(Caesar and Lentulus Clasp His Hands Warmly. 
Crassus \Goldly). 

Act III. Scene II. 

The Senate House. 

(Caesar, accompanied by Lentulus and Crassus, enter the 
Senate House by one door; while Catiline, accompanied by. 
Cethegus and Sulla, enter by another. The Gladiators under 
the command of Clodius and Spartacus remain at the extreme 


end of the street in which the council was held, hidden from 
view in the shrubbery of a garden. The street-head is within 
a stone's throw of the Senate House. The Senate has been in 
session for some time when the Conspirators enter, and Cicero 
is just concluding an attack upon Catiline with the following 
words: "Conscript Fathers, I have said enough to show every 
Senator that the author of this colossal and utterly unheard 
of conspiracy — both as regards its scope and the daring neces- 
sary to put it into execution — having proved himself — accord- 
ing to my eloquent words before you all just now — a villain 
and criminal of the worst and most hardened type — is worthy 
of nothing short of death. I therefore hereby cast my vote for 
his execution." Catiline reached his seat during the lull that 
followed these words. Having done so he rose and said he 
desired to say a few words in answer to the heavy charge jus^ 
lodged against a Roman Senator. He then went on to attack 
the evidence adduced by Cicero, and wound up with the fol- 
lowing remark: "It ill becomes a 'new man' like Cicero — a 
man without any claim to birth or lineage — to attack one of 
the proudest names in Rome." He then resumed his seat. 
Whereupon Caesar arose and said that death was too severe a 
punishment in the premises, and that confiscation of property 
and imprisonment in some provincial town should suffice. 
Lentulus followed to the same effect. Crassus held his peace 
and sat sullenly in his chair, absorbed in thought. Presently 
a shout was heaMl, and Milo, at the head of his Gladiators. 
entered and made straight for Catiline. At once Catiline, 
Cethegus and Sulla — who sat on his right and left — with a 
wave of their arms, discarded their togas and appeared in 
complete armour, with swords at their sides. A cry of sur- 
prise and alarm was immediately thereupon raised by the Sen- 
ate, headed by Cicero. Meantime Milo and his men began 
circling about the three Conspirators. Caesar at this mo- 
ment darted from his seat and rushing past the intervening 
Senators, threw himself in front of Catiline and between him 
and Milo, shouting out: "Back Milo, or thy life shall forfeit 
be." Catiline, seizing the moment of respite this diversion 
gave him, raised the bugle — suspended on a gold chain over 
his shoulder and under his arm — to his lips and blew three 


terrific blasts in quick succession. Instantly there was an an- 
swering deep-throated yell from Clodius' band. At sound of 
this. Milo instantly turned and gaye a few orders, in a low 
tone, to his men. who faced about and in the direction of the 
shout, and formed in close order. Hardly had they done so 
before Clodius appeared at the double-quick, sword in hand 
and shield on arm. charging into the Senate Chamber with 
Spartacus at his elbow, followed by his infuriated band of 
Gladiators. At sight of them Milo's band raised a yell of 
rage and defiance which shook the Senate House, which was 
followed by one fully as yindictiye upon the part of Clodius' 

band. Hardly ha.d this yell died aicay irhen Catiline raised 
a shout of such hi ood -curdling ferocity and lust for hlood, 
that every face in the Senate teas turned upon him. Hardly 
had the sotmds ceased to rush from his lips before — following 
them — he — followed closely by Cethegu- and Sulla — sword in 
hand — dashed into the thick of Milo's band taking them in 
the rear. Two hardy gladiators fell dead in their tracks at 
the first two strokes of his sword. The head of a third fell 
from his shoulders and bounded onto the marble floor of the 
Senate at the third stroke of Catiline's eager sword. Mean- 
time Cethegus had killed his man with a skillfully aimed 
thrust, and Sulla had lopped off — close at the shoulder — the 
right arm — the sword arm — of his opponent. The hlood curd- 
ling yells^ of the noic fiercely fighting^ and closely joined, hands 
of Gladiators, v:ere something terrihle to hear. The fortune^ 
of war were steadily yeering toward Catiline and Clodius, 
who had Milo's band between them, when a shrill bugle blast 
was heard, and a whole Cohort of Roman soldiers — which had 
been secretly summoned to the City by Cicero oyernight — en- 
tered and adyanced at the charge upon the rear of Clodius and 
his men. There was no way of escape possible. Clodius 
shoiued : "Let ea/:h stout Gladiator see that two, Roman sol- 
diers as guard of honour go; to hear him company across the 
StyxP' A terrific yell from the still numerous and vigorous 
hand of Clodius foUoired, over which the mastiff -I ike roar of 
Spartamis could he readily distinguished. Thereupon Cati- 
line raised his rlarion voice on^e more., shouting: '"'The doom, 
of the Repnhlir- now doth sound ! My hlood -dripped sword - 
stroles heating ovt her hnell T With ihese words his sword 


ivhi/ied like a Catherine wheel^ Gladiator''s arms and heads 
sldpping ojf ifs edge like apples fw7n a hutchers knife. Sud- 
denly his foot slipped in a pool of blood of his own shedding. 
Instantly a gigantic Gladiator from the forests of Germany, 
his tow-colored hair dripping with blood from a glancing 
stroke of Catiline's sword which had carried away his left 
scalp and left ear, darted upon him and pierced his neck. It 
war: the Teuton's last act on earth, for Cethegus, springing 
upon him, severed his head from his body with the words, 
'"''Die^ thou Barbarian beast, for this foul act!" But the soldiers 
had by now surrounded Clodius and his men. The Prefect f 
was fighting hand to hand with Clodius, who was pushing 
hlin hard, when a legionar}^, slipping under Clodius' guard as 
he was thus engaged, pierced his arm-pit. Before he could 
withdraw his sword Spartacus, with the yell of a de- 
mon, sprang upon him, and drove his sword up to the hilt 
between his teeth, who in turn was pierced by the Prefect's 
swift turning sword. All fell with wounds in front, 
and each accounted for at least two of the legionaries. Milo's 
band — of whom only half a dozen — including Milo — practi- 
cally hoTs de combat from wounds — remained, were all dan- 
gerously wounded, but were able to make front against Sulla 
and Cethegus, who fought on, utterly undismayed at the cer- 
tain death hanging over them, as well as utterly oblivious to 
theii now rapidly bleeding and numerous wounds. Suddenly 
Cethegus cried: "Sulla, I die; stand o'er me till I pass." At 
these words Sulla throws the protection of his shield ff over 
tered the shields of the first foes slain. 

him, whirling his sword in every direction and thus holding 
the approaching six wounded gladiators at bay. No sooner 
did Caesar see this than he leaped over the corpses that 
surrounded Catiline and, seizing sword and shield from 
Catiline's hand, shouted to the six Gladiators : '^Back on your 
lives ^ I kill the first man moves T The Prefect brought 
his frightfully mauled Cohort to "attention"; the six wounded 
Gladiators wiped their bloody brows on the backs of their gory 
hands, and all was, for a moment, silent in the Senate House. 
Suddenly Cethegus crawled towards Catiline. On reaching 

tThe officer commanding the Cohort. 

ttHe as well as Catiline and Cethegus having immediately mas- 


him he found to his surprise he was still breathing. Catiline, 
at his last gasp, opened his fierce ej^es on Cethegus and mur- 
muring, "Aurelia," expired. Whereupon the heroic Cethegus — 
himself in the agonies of death — murmured in his death-cold 
ear — Caesar loAvering his ear to catch the message of a dying 
man to a dead one: 

"Peace, mighty spirit, Caesar 11 be thine heir 
And carry out thy purpose — found a throne! 
Upon the ruins of this rotten State." 

Caes. : (Reverently closing the eyes of CethegiTS and Cati- 

line) — 
Yes^ fiery spirit. Rest. 

(The End). 





Chorus loquitur. 

Fair reader this grim play scarce but begins 

A chain of phiys that equals Shakspeare's length. 

In saving this think not the Chorus sins 

We know our productivity and strength. 

Plays in blank verse wherein all History 

From most remotest times to Shakspeare's day — 

Before which date History's mystery 

After which date there's scarcely ought to say — 

Plays in blank verse wherein the action dread 

Of mighty men that held the world in awe 

Shall by the Muse in varied hues be spread 

With loves of women of beauty past all flaw ! 

Prove note the tests we in the rear accord 

See spear of Shakspeare and fierce Marlowe's sword.f 

•^An analysis of their fame: by Professor Cxeorge Saintsbiiry, and 
the late John Addington Symonds, respectively. 







Geoege Saixtsbury, 

Professor of Rbetoric and English Literature 

At the University of Edinburgh. 

General Considerations. 

"In the foregoing survey of Shakespeare's plays I have given some 
general idea of the way in -which the operation of the various agencies 
shows itself, with (as far as possible) the order of their succession. 
Really, though chronological illustration is interesting and corrobora- 
tive, it is in a way superfluous, because we can see without it how 
the employment of them would grow on the hands of such an artist. 
Of deJilterate experimenting with any or all of them there would 
probably not be very much ; the man who wrote 'Rebellion lay in his 
way, and he found it,' has dispensed us from any such vain imagina- 
tion. These things lay in his way; and he found them, and made the 
most of them. That 'most' also has been illustrated freely. But it 
is perhaps desirable to give it an account of something the same kind 
as that which has been given to the style which was its matrix and 
crude form. The completed Shakespearian blank verse, as we see it 
maturing in the later early, and middle plays, and matured in the four 
great tragedies and in Antony and Cleopatra, preserves the iambic 
decasyllabic as norm inviolably; never instals any other, and makes 
everything that it admits hold of that. But the strict minimum is 
infinitely varied, and, even when kept, is entirely stripped of its 
monotonous and stable character, and made to understand that it must 
be Protean in itself, and ready to enter into infinite combinations 
with its neighbors. The great agency in this, beyond all douttt, is 
the manipulation of the pause. Not that Shakespeare is, as some have 
vainly thought, to be scanned by 'staves* — staves 'knapped,' as the 
good old Biblical word has it, almost as bluntly as the old alliterative 
verses themselves. The futility of this notion is shown, in a way 

tTol. II, pp. 48-56 and p. 65. 


which make^ it wonderful that it should ever have been entertained 
by anybody, in the fact that a very large proportion of Shake^>eare*s 
lines have no real pause at all, are 'staves* of themselves, and hardly 
even that, so nnbrokea is the rhythmical current of the adjacent lines 
from and into them. This doing away with the middle — and end — 
pause alike is at least as important as the variation of the middle, 
and, in fact, is but an extension of it. 

The normal blank-verse line of the origins, as Shakespeare took 
it over frran Surrey, Sackville, and even the Wits, was a strict 
'decasyllabon' of five iambics, with a caesura somewhat carefully ob- 
served about the middle, and self-incloeed in a manner not easy to 
make plain by individual examples, or by any process of overt analysis, 
but sensible to any ear of the slight^t delicacy when a few specimens 
have been read. It sometimes admitted a sort of redundance or *weak 
ending,* not merely in words which were really then monosyllables, 
like Tieaven,' but in those which were trochaic-tipped with a very 
short final syllable, like 'glory.* This lic-«ise, however, did not in the 
least affect its general structure. It by no means always concluded 
with even a comma (though it mostly did so) : but the grammatical 
running on did not in the least interfere with the metrical flapping 
off. It tolerated pretty strong stops in the middle of the line, but 
these also (so much stronger was the obsession of line-integrit- 
not interfere with the sunk ditch of the line-end. Thus, even 
as in the great pa^ges of Peele and Marlowe, the unity of tliuu^i 
and imagination made the paragraph quite poeticaJif/ distinct, this 
I>aragraph was never a real verse-period of the larger kind: there was 
no eomiHJsition in the purely rhythmical and metrical conc^tion of 
the verse. To put the thing extremely-extravagantly. some would say — 
the delivery of this i>aragraph to a person who did not understand 
the language would have conveyed to him the idea of some dozen or 
sixteen verses^ individually perhaps melodious, but not regimented, not 
woited into any kind of i^tfmphony. This sort of blank verse we find 
in all the writers named above exclusively, with the excepticms (and 
oth«^ of coulee), also noted above, in Marlowe and his mates, when 
the rough strife of poetry bursts its way through the iron gates of 
metre. We find it also in Titu^ Andrmik-u^. in the Comedy of Errors, 
in Lore'* Lahour Lost in the early rehandled 'Histories,' and elsewhere 
in Shakespeare himself. 

But. as partly noted, there are certain features even in this rigid 
and early model which are at war with the self-c-ontained sihgle line 
and the merely cumulative batch of lines^ They may be kept under 
as long as the poet's chief aim is to secure his dec-asyllabon. to keep 
it from dt^gerel on the one hand, and, on the other, to make it 
ind^)endent of the warning bell of rhyme at the end. But when prac- 
tice, in himself to speak and in his readers to hear, has made the 
blank decasyllabic effect familiar when it need not be strictly uniform 
in order to obtain rec-ognition — ^these features assert themselves. The 
first of these probably, and the most insidious, but also the most revo- 


Intionary, is the reclimdant syllable. It is of an ancient lionse ; we 
had ourselves fifteeners before we bad fourteeners, and in all i)rosodies 
from Greek downwards there has been a tendency to regard the last 
place in a line as a place of license and liberty. It is curiously unas- 
suniinsr; in words (to keep the same examples) not merely like 'heaven,' 
hut like 'glory', it is a sort of 'breath' only, something that you do not 
count, but just smuggle in with its companion. Yet, as we shall see 
presently, it is a very Trojan Horse in reality. Then there is a stop, 
full or other, in the middle of the line. This also is innocent — seeming. 
What is it but a mere grammatical emphasising of the caesura, itself, 
recognized of Gascoigne and all good people long before the first of 
the Wits had trodden or supplied the stage? Next probably — but it 
need hardly be said that I stand not upon the order — comes the inter- 
mixture of rhyme, a thing which the greatest blank verse will frown 
upon, but which is so likely as a relapse, so convenient as a 'cue-tip,' 
so pleasant to the as yet unaccustomed ear of the groundlings; and 
which, be it remembered, almost nesessitates a sort of junction betv/een 
two lines, though it may favour the closing of the couplets. All these 
things are apparently compatible — certainly found — with the stiffest 
of the drumming decasyllabons, yet secret solvents of their stiffness. 

Other things, still not ostensibly revolutionary, next suggest them- 
selves. We have seen in the last volume, that mediaeval poets, whether 
through inexpertness or by experiment, and fifteenth-century poets 
through clumsiness, largely curtailed or extended the normal length of 
the line; that there are Alexandrines even in Chaucer, while — a point 
to which the Renaissance was likely to pay more attention — there are 
undoubtedly incomplete lines in Virgil. Why not avail oneself of these 
licens'es? Even Marlowe had done so now and then. Why not? But 
if you do, your sacred integer of ten syllables is rudely touched. Once 
more, again, you have recognized, and had formally recognized for 
you, the duty of making a sort of fold or crease in each verse at the 
fourth, fifth, or neighboring syllable. It is inconvenient, as well as 
monotonous always to do it at the same place; yet, when you begin 
to vary that place, is not the structure of the line troubled, though 
beneficently so? And is there not somehow a kind of rhythmic con- 
spiracy in the successive lines v\'here you vary it? Then, too, there 
comes the power of words. Important or beautiful words, adjusted, 
spaced, accumulated, give brilliancy, splendour, weight to the line. But 
the line is so short. Why cut the necklace into lengths? Why not 
make the stars constellations? And, lastly, there is the trisyllabic foot. 

I trust I may repeat (after the not of course unanimous but fairly 
general acknowledgment of critics, that the preceding volume has 
made something of a case for it) that the trisyllabic foot is ubiquitous 
in English verse from 1200 to 1500, and that nothing but the reaction 
from the anarchy of doggerel brought about later, the partial and only 
partial reprobation thereof. But there is no need to have recourse to 
this, though from the historical point of view it cannot be omitted. In 
blank verse, and especially in dramatic blanlv verse — when once the 


practitioner has got rid of his fear of losing the guide-rope, if he step 
out of the strict iamb — it must, in English appear. It does appear; 
and with it disappears the mere rub-a-dub of the decasyllabon. 

The Pause. 

In arranging the pause— at any syllable from first to ninth, and at 
no syllable at all, not even tenth— he is helped infinitely by that dis- 
tribution of the weight of words, rather after the fashion of quick- 
silver in a reed than of leaden bracelets fastened at intervals around 
a stick, which has been more than once referred to. Nobody has ap- 
proached Shakespeare — Tennyson has perhaps come nearest, for Mil- 
ton's verse is too uniformly stately for comparison — in this mastery of 
poetical conjuring with word and line, a mastery of which he had 
more than a glimpse as early as Romeo and Juliet, and of which he 
gave the final and perfect display in The Tempest. The lines rise, fall, 
sweep, wave, dart straight forward, are arrested in mid-air, insinuate 
themselves in seipentine fashion as if in sword play with an invisible 

But these effects of weight, lightness, pungeucj', arresting power, 
and so forth, are at least partly caused — are certainly assisted im- 
mensely — by two other things, the redundant ending and the trisyllabic 
foot. The first chiefly gives variety; the second variety and flexibility 
as nothing else could do; while variety again is lent by the shortened 
fragment verses and the elongated Alexandrines and fourteeners, or 
by verses with several trisyllabic feet in them. How these various 
devices may be made to subserve particular eifects of meaning, shades 
of passion, and the like, need not be much dwelt on. This is a form 
of prosodic study which has always commended itself to the multitude 
as much as, perhaps almost more than, it should. But as to the way 
in which the use of the trisyllabic foot grevv, I have a theorj^ which 
is doubtless not new, but about which I have not seen much written. 

The Trisyllabic Foot a]sd Its Revival. 

It has been observed before, that, according to the principles of 
this book, 'extra-metrical' syllables, anyvv'here but at tne end or middle 
of the verse, are a confession, as the case may be, of impotence on 
the part of the poet if they exist, of the critic, if they are supposed 
to exist. And no great admiration has been hinted of the extra-metrical 
syllable at the middle in any case. I believe, however, that at this 
critical moment in the history of blank verse and. through the influence 
of this on rhyme, in the history of English poetry generally, the mis- 
take or laches of indulging in this internal excrescence brought about 
a great good. A large, a very large number of lines could be pointed 
out where such a syllable is almost undoubtedly intended by the poet 
(supposing he thought about it at all) as a license of the kind, and 
not to be carried on to the other half of the line. As such, the effect 
is almost always ugly; it can only be admired by those persons (with 
whom the present writer most heartily differs, though he has been 


confused with tliem) who think that an irregularity must be an im- 
provement, that a mole must be a beauty, that discord must be har- 
monious. But such an ear as Shakespeare's could not fail to perceive 
that this ugliness could be turned into a beauty by simply effecting 
the connection, and fusing the derelict syllable with the following 
iamb to make an harmonious anapaest. And this, I have myself 
not the slightest doubt, was, in his and other cases, the actual genesis 
(whether consciously and deliberately carried out does not, once more, 
in the least matter) of the revived trisyllabic foot which Gascoigue 
has bewailed as dead. And so the discord was made harmonious ; the 
mole did become a beauty; and the irregularity was the foundation 
of the larger and nobler Rule. The process, in fact, is one of the 
best examples of that operation of growth and life to which the people 
who say that the ballad writers never thought about contending for 
the liberty of this very trisyllable foot itself, seem insensible. I do 
not know whether the wind thinks about blowing or the flower about 
growing, but I know that they blow and grow. 

The Redundant Syllable. 

The use at the end of the syllable, redundant or extra-metrical — 
if we must have the word, though to me extra-metre is no metre — 
has a different history. At the middle it is veiy rarely a beauty ; 
perhaps never, unless it can be 'carried over' as just described. At the 
end it is often beautiful ; and, whether beauty or not, is almost inevi- 
table now and then, and most useful constantly. Further, it is a 
most powerful and important instrument of variation — a natural link 
or remedy against line-isolation far-descended as has been said, and 
of other excellent differences. But it is something of a Delilah — who 
was herself apparently of a good Philistine family, and is known to 
have had exceptional attractions as a person. Indeed, the parable 
or parallel works out with remarkable exactness ; for it is a very con- 
siderable time before Delilah takes away Samson's strength, and the 
means whereby she does so are mysterious. It can hardly be said 
(though one may feel a vague sense of danger) that in Shakespeare's 
own probably latest plays, where he indulges himself with the re- 
dundant line, Samson is anything but Samson still. There are pas- 
sages on passages in Beaumont and Fletcher themselves — notably that 
magnificent piece in The False One, which is one of the purplest 
pRtches in the coat of Elizabethan drama — wnere the hendecasyllable 
has it nearly all its own way, with no harm and much good. But 
Delilah is still Delilah ; and she is too much for Samson — the verse if 
not the verse-smith — at last. 



She takes indeed two forms : for much the same as has been said 
of the redundant syllable may be said of eu.iambment or overlapping. 
This, indeed, is rather the special Delilah of the couplet than of blank 
verse, but each kind has to be very wary when it visits the vale of 


Sorek in this manner also. Opportunity of delight and occasion for 
display of power as it is to the verse that keeps itself strong and 
wide awake, overlapping is a place of slipping, and may be a pit 
of destruction, to the loose-girt and careless versifier. And it has, in 
common with redundancy and with the use of trisyllabic feet, the 
special danger that it is perfectly easy to do badly. Anybody as soon 
as these devices are once recognised, can practice them after a fashion, 
and everybody proceeds to do so. Whence come things for tears. 

The Morphology and Biology of Blank Verse. 

But the offence is his by whom the offence cometh ; and Shakes- 
peare in his complete work showed that there was no necessity of 
oft'ence at all, while there was the possibility' (and in his case the 
accomplishment) of infinite beauty. Foolish things have, no doubt, 
been said — in fact they are not mifrequently said at the present mo- 
ment — as to the superiority of blank verse to rhyme; and we shall 
have to deal with them, and with those from Milton downwards who 
have been and are guilty of them, as they occur. At present it is 
sufficient to point out. first, that the misvaluation is merely a case 
of the common inability to like two good things without putting them 
into unjust balances and weighing them against each other with un- 
stamped weights. Secondly, that, for this purpose and that, blank 
verse is not superior to rhyme but demonstrably inferior. It will not 
do — at least it has not done — for strict lyric, as the moderate success 
even of Campion or Collins, and the failure of almost everybody else, 
have well shown. It is a great question whether it is not a very 
dangerous medium even for long narrative poems. But for aliort narra- 
tives ; for short descriptive, reflective, didactic, and other pieces of 
various kinds ; and for every kind of drama, or even partially dramatic 
matter, it is, in English, the predestined medium, hammered out at 
first by a full generation and more of partly unsuccessful, never more 
than partly successful, pioneers and journeymen, chipped into per- 
fect form by the master Shakespeare, in prooably not half a genera- 
tion longer. Its extraordinary and unique success in English — for 
German blank verse, good as it can be, is far inferior, especially in 
variety and music; and I know no thirdsman that deserves to rank — 
is probably due to the fact that our language, though perhaps singly 
accented, is not singly emphasized ; that it provides a large number 
of sufficient resting-places for the voice, but does not reciuire (or, 
except as an exception, allow) long dwelling on any. The way in 
which not merely the French but almost all continental nations hurry 
over half-a-dozen or a dozen syllables, and then plunge on the suc- 
ceeding one with a volley of exploding and shrapnel-liko emphasis, 
utterly ruins blank verse, whether as articulately delivered, or as 
read with] that inarticulate but exactly proportioned following of 
actual delivery which is necessary for prosodic appreciation. It is one 
of the worst faults of the stress — or accent — or beat-system, as op- 
posed to the foot, that it vulgarises and impoverishes this great \\\oU\\ 


where the iiiistressed sj'llables are not less important than the stressed. 
It is essential to blank verse that no part of it should be killed, and 
none brought into convulsive and galvanic activity ; otherwise the 
delicate and complicated or simple ana yet substantial melody is 
jarred and jangled out of all tune and time. Yet what infinite variety 
of time and tune can be got out of it — not by 'getting up stairs' on 
the instrument, and flinging oneself down again, but by evoking the 
intinite variety of its tones Shakesi^eare, Milton, Thomson, Shelley, 
Tennyson, Browning, have shown us. But the greatest of these, and 
the first, and the master of all the rest in even the details and pe- 
culiarities in which each is himself a master, is Shakespeare. Pp, 59- 

The Sonnets. 

Very different is it with the bonnets. We are, of course, free 
here from the self-sought obsessions in respect of subject or object 
which beset so many students of the marvelous compositions. It is 
enough for us that they exist, and that Mere's references shows that 
at any rate some of them existed at a pretty early period of Shakes- 
peare's career, while the general — not oi course quite universal — 
equality of the model makes it very unnecessary to disturb ourselves 
with the futile inquiry whether any, and if so which, of them were 
not or might not have been handed about among his private friends 
before 1-598. Here the poet has a medium which is absolutely con- 
genial to him, and with which, as with blank verse, he can do any 
thing he likes. With his usual sagacity he chooses the English form, 
and prefers its extremest variety — that of the three quatrains and 
couplet, without any interlacing rhyme. Nevertheless he gives the full 
sonnet — effect — not merely by the distribution (which he does not 
always observe, though he often does) of octave and sestet sii'bject, 
but very mainly by that same extraordinary symphonising of the 
prosodic effects of individual and batched verses, which was his secret 
in blank verse itself. // it seem surprising that so difficult and subtle 
a medium sJiould te mastered so early, let it be remembered that the 
single-line mould, properly used, 'is by no means unsuitable to the son- 
net, the effect of tchich is definitely cumulative. We have no certain 
or even probable sonnets of Marlowe's, for the three coarse but fairly 
vigorous ones by 'Ignoto,' usually printed with his works, are very 
unlikely to be his. But if he had written any he would not have had 
to alter his mode of line much in itself. He would, however, have 
had to adjust it relatively, as he seldom did, and as Shakespeare began 
to do from the first, by weighting it variously, by applying wha* we 
have called the 'quicksilver' touch. 

It is by this combined cumulative and diversifying effect, this 
beating up against the wind as it icere, that the ordinary and extra- 
ordinary 'tower'' of these sonnets is produced; and this tower is to 
some readers their great and inexhaustible charm. No matter what 
the subject is, the 'man right fair' or 'the woman coloured ill,' the 


incidents of dally joy and chagrin, or those illimitable meditations 
on life and love and thought at large which eternise the more ephe- 
meral things — the process, prosodic and poetic is more or less the 
same, though carefully kept from monotony. In the very fir^t Unei 
theie is the spread and heating of the icing; the flight rises till the 
end of the douzain. ichen it stoops or sinks quietly to the close in 
the couplet. The intermediate devic-es by which this effect is pro- 
duced are, as always with Shakespeare, hard to particularise. Here, 
as in the kindred region of pure style, he has so little mannerism. 
that it is easier to aK>rehend than to analyse his manner. It may 
be a coincidenc-e, or it may not, that in a very large pror»ortion of 
the openings what we may call a bastard caesura, or ending of a 
word without much metrical scission at the tliird syllable, prec-edes 
a stric-tly metrical one at the fourth. Another point is that, through- 
out, full stops or their equivalents in mid-line ere ertremely rare, and 
even at the end not common, till the ticelfth. so that the run of the 
whole is uninterrupted, though its rhythm is constantly diversified. 
Redundant syllables are very rare, except where, as in IxxxviL. they 
are accumulated with evident ptiri>ose. The trisyllabic foot, though 
used with wonderful effect sometimes, is used very ^aringly. On th^ 
whole Shakespeare seems here to have had for his object, or at any 
rate to have achieved as his ewect. the varying of the line trith as 
little as possihle Itreach or ruffling of it. He allows himself a flash 
or blaze of summer lightning now and then, but no fussing with c-on- 
tinnal crackers. All the prosodic handling is subdued to give that 
steady passionate musing that 'emotion recollected in tranquUlity' — 
which is characteristic of the best sonnets, and of his more than almost 
of any others. Of mere 'sports,' such as the octo-syllabic cxlv.. it is 
hardly nec-essary to speak. P. 65. 

But. luckily, all these things are well known, and our not too 
abtmdant space should be saved for others that are not quite so. Let 
it suffic-e to say, in conclusion, that, blank verse or song, sonnet or 
stanza, Shakespieare achieves everything that he touches : that he foots 
it everywhere with r»erfect featness: and that he always does f<y^»' 
it. His harmonies and melodies are reducible to the nicely constructed 
and regularly equivalenc-ed group: not to the haphazard and blunder- 
ing accent scheme. They are independent of music, though quite will- 
ing to unite with it. They require no fantastic laws of sound to ex- 
plain them. The poet simply puts his hand into the exhaustless lucky- 
bag of English Words, and arranges them — trochee and iam and ana- 
paest regularly, spondee and dactyl an4 even tribach when he chooses — 
at his pleasure and for ours. 






John Addington Symonds, 

Author of 

'Studies of Greek Pcets" 'Renaissance In Italy' 'Sketches in Italy 

and Greece,' etc. 

Marlowe has been styled, and not unjustly styled, the father of 
English dramatic poetry. When we reflect on the conditions of the 
&ta?e before he produced 'Tamburlaine,' and consider the state in 
which he left it after the appearance of 'Edward II.,' we shall be able 
to estimate his true right to this title. Art, like Nature, does not move 
by sudden leaps and bounds. It required a slow elaboration of divers 
elements, the formation of a public able to take interest in dramatic 
exhibitions, the determination of the national taste toward the ro- 
mantic rather than the classic type of art. and all the other circum- 
stances which hare been dwelt upon in the preceding studies, to ren- 
der Marlowe's advent as decisive as it proved. Before he began to write, 
various dramatic species had been essayed with more or less success. 
Comedies modeled in form upon the types of Plautus and Terence; 
tragedies conceived in the spirit of Seneca ; chronicles rudely arranged 
in scenes for representation; dramatised novels and tales of private 
life: Court comedies of compliment and allegoi-y ; had succeeded to 
the religious Miracles and ethical Moralities. There was plenty of 
productive energy, plenty of enthusiasm and activity. Theatres con- 
tinued to spring up, and acting came to rank among the recognised 
professions. But this activity was still chaotic. None could say where 
or whether the germ of a great national art existed. To us, students 
of the past, it is indeed clear enough in what direction lay the real 
life of the drama ; but this was not apparent to contemporaries. 
Scholars despised the shows of mingled bloodshed and buffoonery in 
which the populace delighted. The people had no taste for dry and 
formal disquisitions in the style of 'Gorboduc' The blank verse of 
Sackville and Hughes rang hollow; the prose of Lyly was affected; 
the rhyming couplets of the popular theatre interfered with dialogue 
and free development of character. The public itself was divided in 
its tastes and instincts : the mob inclining to mere drolleries and merri- 
ments upon the stage, the better vulgar to formalities and studied 
imitations. A powerful body of sober citizens, by no means wholly 
composed of Puritans and ascetics, regarded all forms of dramatic ait 
with undisguised hostility. Meanwhile, no really great poet had arisen 
to stamp the tendencies of either Court or town with the authentic 
seal of genius. There seemed a danger lest the fortunes of the stage 
in England should be lost between the prejudices of a literary class, 

tPages 5S5. et seo. 


tlie puerile and lifeless pastimes of the multitudes, and the d^siavoar 
of conservative moralists. From this peril Marlowe saved the Eng- 
lish drama. Amid the chaos of conflicting elements be discerned the 
tree and living germ of art, and ^t its growth beyond all risks of 
accident by has achievement. 

When, therefore, we style Marlowe the father and founder of 
English dramatic poetry, we mean that he perceived the capaciries 
for noble art inherent in the Romantic Drama, and proved its adapta- 
tion to high purposes by his practice. Out of confusion he brought 
order, following the due of his own genius through a labyrinth of 
dim unmastered posssibUities. Like all great craftsmen, he worked by 
selection and exclusion on the whole ma^ of material ready to his 
hand; and his instinct in this double process is the proof of his 
originality. He adopted the romantic drama in lieu of the classic, 
the popular instead of the literary type. But he saw that the right 
formal vehicle, blank verse, had been suggesred by the school which 
he rejected. Rhyme, the earlier metre of the romantic drama, had 
to be abandoned. Blank verse, the metre of the pedants, had to be 
accepted. Tto employ blank verse in the romantic drama was the first 
step in his revolution. But this was only the first step. Both form 
and matter had alike to be transfigured. And it was precisely in 
this transfiguration of the Tight dramatic metre, ir. this transfiguration 
of the right dramatic stuff, that Marlowe showed himself a creative 
poet. What we caU the English, or the Elizabethan, or better per- 
haps the Shakesperian Drama, came into existence by this double 
process. Marlowe found the public stage abandoned to aimless 
trivialities, but abounding in the rich life of the nation, and with the 
sympathies of the people firmly enlisted on the side of its romantic 
^^^^T.f^.^^.^Ti He introduced a new class of heroic subjects, eminently 
^^_ amatic handling. He moulded characters, and formed a 

. -non of the parts they had to play. Under his touch 

-v_ _ „:ved with spirit: men and women :^>oke and acted 

wiiii the energy and spontaneity of natore. He found the blank verse 
of the literary school monotonous, tame, nerveless, without life or 
movement. But he had the tact to understand its vast capacities, so 
vastly wider than its makers had divined, so immeasurably more 
elastic than the rhymes for which he substituted its sonorous cadence. 
Marlowe, first of Englishmen, perceived how noble was the instrument 
he handled, how well adapted to the closest reasoning, the sharpest 
epigram, the loftiest flight of poetry, the subtlest music, and the most 
luxuriant debauch of fancy. Touched by his hands the thing became 
an organ capable of rolling thunders and of whisuering sighs, of mov- 
ing with pompous volubility or gliding like a silvery stream, of blow- 
ing trumpet-blasts to battle or sounding the soft secrets of a lover's 
heart I do not assert that Marlowe made it discourse music of so 
many moodsL But what he did with it. unlocked the secrets of the 
verse, and taught suc<*ssors how to play upon its hundred stops. He^ 
found it what Greene calls a 'drumming decasyllabon.' Each line 


stood alone, foniied after the same model, eiidiug with a strongly 
accented monosyllable. Marlowe varied the pauses in its rhythm ; com- 
bined the structure of succeeding verses into periods ; altered the in- 
cidence of accent in many divers forms and left the metre fit to be 
the vehicle of Shakspere's or Milton's thought. Compared with 
either of those greatest poets, Marlowe, as a versifier, lacks indeed 
variety of cadence, and palls our sense of melody by emphatic magnilo- 
quence. The ])omp of his 'mighty line' tends to monotony ; nor was 
he quite sure in his employment of the instrument which he discovered 
and divined. The finest bursts of metrical music in his dramas seem 
often the results of momentary inspiration rather than the studied 
style of a deliberate artist. 

This adaptation of blank verse to the romantic drama, this blend- 
ing of classic form with popular material, and the specific heightening 
of both form and matter by the application of poetic genius to the 
task, constitutes Marlow^e's claims to be styled the father and the 
founder of our stage. We are so accustomed to Shakspere that it 
is not easy to estimate the full importance of liis predecessor's revolu- 
tion. Once again, therefore, let us try to bear in mind the three card- 
inal points of Marlowe's originality. In the first place, he saw that 
the romantic drama, the drama of the public theatres, had a great 
future before it. In the second place, he saw that the playwrights of 
the classic school had discovered the right dramatic metre. In the 
third place, he raised both matter and metre, the subjects of the ro- 
mantic and the verse of the classic school, to heights as yet unappre- 
hended in his days. Into both he breathed the breath of life; heroic, 
poetic, artistic, vivid with the spirit of his age. From the chaotic 
and conflicting elements around him he drew forth the unity of Eng- 
lish Drama, and produced the thing which was to be so great, is 
still so perfect. 

Marlow^e was fully aware of his object. The few and seemingly 
negligent lines which serve as prologue to 'Tamburlaine,' written prob- 
ably when he was a youth of twenty-two, set forth his purpose in 
plain terms : 

From jigging veins of rhyming mother-wits, 
And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, 
We'll lead you to the stately tent of war ; 
Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine 
Threatening the world, with high astounding terms, 
And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword. 

In other words, Marlow^e undertakes to w^ean the public from its 
drolleries and merriments. He advertises a metre hitherto unused 
upon the popular stage. He promises an entertainment in which heroic 
actions shall be displayed with the pomp of a new style. The 
puerilities of clownage are to retire into the second place. Yet the 
essential feature of the romantic drama, its power to fascinate and 
please a public audience, is not to be abandoned. 


The importance of Blank Verse in the history of Ens^lish poetry, 
especially dramatic poetry, is so great that Marlowe's innovations in the 
use of it demand a somewhat lengthy introduction, in order that their 
scope may he understood. 

The single line, or unit, in a blank verse period is a line of nor- 
mally five accents, of which the final accent falls on the last syllable, 
or, if that syllable be not definitely accented, is supplied by the closing 
pause. It consists frequently, but by no means invariably, of ten 
syllables. It has usually, but not inevitably, a more or less discern- 
able pause, falling after the fourth or the sixth syllable. Out of 
these determinations, it is possible to make or to select a typical line — 
the normal line of English heroic rhythm. And for this purpose we 
can do no better than choose the one indicated by Johnson from 
Milton : 

Love lights his lamp, and waves his purple wing. 

Here it will be noticed we get five accents regularly falling on the 
second syllable of each foot, and a pause marked at the end of the 
fourth syllable. Such a line may be termed the ideal line of English 
heroic prosody ; and it is our business to keep its scheme somewhere, 
in however shadowy a shape, present to our mind, in order to appre- 
ciate and judge the almost innumerable declensions from the type 
which constitute the variety and beauty of tne metre in the handling 
of great masters. 

This line, which has become the standard metre of serious English 
poetry in epic, story, idyll, satire, drama, elegy, and meditative lyric, 
had been used from early times anterior to its application to blank 
verse. Chaucer and his followers employed it in the couplet royal ; 
Surrey, Wyatt. and Sidney in the sonnet ; Spenser in the stanzas of 
the 'Faery Queen.' But in the hands of these masters, and applied 
to these purposes, the verse was still subservient to rhyme. Surrey, 
in his translation of the 'Aeneid,' was the first poet who attempted 
to free the measure from this servitude. It is supposed that, in mak- 
ing his experiment, he followed Italian models. The Italian heroic 
verse, a line of five accents, but commonly of eleven syllables, and 
not distinguished by a normal pause, had undergone a similar tran- 
sition from rhymed to unrhymed usage. Employed at first in the terza 
rima of Dante, the ottava rima of Boccaccio, the sonnet of Petrarch, 
it had been emancipated from rhyme by Trissino, Rucellai, and 
Alamanni, writers of tragic, epic, and didactic poems. Among the 
Italians the transformed measure acquired the name of versi sciolti, 
for verse freed from rhyme. 

Surrey is presumed to have imitated the example of these poets 
when he attempted what we call Blank Verse — verse, that is, where the 
rhymes are blank or vacant. 

At the same time we may profitably bear in mind that the dram- 
atic poets with whose work we have to deal, deliberately sought to 
adapt their versification to Greelv, Latin, and Italian rules of prosody, 



as these had then been imperfectly analysed. On the Old Enijlish stock 
they grafted slips of artfnl iirowtli imported from their classic and 
Italian studies. The developed blank verse of the Elizabethan age is, 
therefore, a hybrid between a native rhythm and an antique metre. 
Unless we grasp this fact we shall miss some of the specific beauties 
of a measure which, without ceasing to be native and accentual, adopted 
qualities of rhetoric and movement from the Attic stage, the Latin 
epic, and the Italian imitators of the classic style. 

Since blank verse is an accentual rhythm, it lends itself with 
great effect to emphasis — for emphasis is only enforced accent. The 
facility with which it can be written, the monotony to which it is 
peculiarly liable in the hands of a weak versifier, justify, nay, almost 
necessitate, daring variations in its structure; and these variations 
assist rhetorical effects. In the absence of rhyme one line can be 
linked to another without injury, and periods may be formed, like 
those of prose, in which phrase balances phrase, and the music of 
language is drawn through sequences of mutually helpful verses. The 
pause and stop, which are important elements in English prosody, add 
another element of variety, by allowing each line to be broken in 
more than one place, and enabling a skilful craftsman to open and 
close periods of rhythmic melody at several points in the structure. 
Reviewing these qualities of English blank verse, we shall perceive 
that it is an eminently dramatic metre. Its facility and rapid move- 
ment bring it into close relation to the speech of common life, and 
impose no shackling limitations upon dialogue. At .the same time the 
fixed element of rhythm raises it above colloquial language, and ren- 
ders even abrupt transitions from the pedestrian to the impassioned 
style of poetry both natural and easy. The emphasis on which if 
mainly relies for variety of music, gives scope to rhetoric. By shift- 
ing the incedence of accent, a playwright not only animates his verse 
and produces agreeable changes in the rhythm; but he also marks the 
meaning of his words, and yields opportunities for subtly modulated 
declamation to the actor. The same end is gained by altering the 
pauses, on which a very wide scale of oratoricl effects can be touched. 
When .Johnson complained that Milton's method of versification 
'changes the measures of a poet to the periods of a declaimer,' he laid 
his finger on that quality- of blank verse which is certainly a gain 
to the Drama, whatever may be thought about its value for the epic. 
The true and only way of appreciating the melody of good blank verse 
is to declaim it. observing how the changes in the rhythm obey the 
poet's meaning, and enforce the rhetoric he had in view. Blank verse 
is, in fact, the nearest of all poetical measures to prose ; yet it does 
not sacrifice the specific note of verse, which is the maintenance of 
one selected rhythm, satisfying the ear by repetition, and charming 
it by variety within the compass of its formal limitations. 

Marlowe, with the instinct of genius, observed these advantages 
or the unrhymed heroic measure, and with the faculty of a great 
artist he solved the problem of rendering it the supreme instrument 


of tragic poetry- Instead of the improver he may almost be called 
the creator of blank verse; for the mere omission of rhyme in the 
metre of his predecessors did not suffice to constitute what we now un- 
derstand by blank verse. He found the heroic line monotonous, mono- 
syllabic, divided into five feet of tolerably regular alternate shorts and 
longs. He left it various in form and structure, sometimes redundant by 
a syllable, sometimes deficient, and animated by unexpected emphases 
and changes in the pause. He found it a clumsy and mistaken imita- 
tion of the classical iambic; he restored it to its birthright as a 
native English rhythm. He found not sequence of concatenated lines 
or attempt at periods — one verse followed another in isolation, and 
all were made after the same insipid model. He grouped his lines 
according to the sense, allowing the thought contained in his words 
to dominate their form, and carrying the melody through several verses 
linked together by rhetorical modulations. His metre did not pre- 
serve one unalterable type, but assumed diversity of cadences, the 
beauty of which depended on their adaptation to the current of his 
ideas. By these means he produced the double effect of unity and 
contrast ; maintained the fixed march of his chosen rhythm : and yet, 
by alteration in the pauses, speed, and grouping of the syllables, by 
changes in emphasis and accent, he made one measure represent a 
thousand. His blank verse might be compared to music, which de- 
mands regular rhythm, but, by the employment of phrase, induces a 
higher kind of melody to rise above the common and despotic beat 
of time. 

Bad writers of blank verse, like Marlowe's predecessors, 
or like those who in all periods have been deficient in plastic 
energy and power of harmonious adaptation, sacrifice the poetry 
of expression, the force of rhetoric, to the mechanism of 
their art. Metre with them becomes a metre framework, ceases 
to be the organic body of a vivifying thought. And bad 
critics praise them for the very faults of tameness and monotony, 
which they miscall regularity of numbers. These faults, annoying 
enough to a good ear in stanzas and rhymed couplets, are absolutely 
insufferable in blank verse, which relies for melodious effect upon 
its elasticity and pliability of cadence, and which is only saved from 
insipidity by license interpretative of the poet's sense and demanded 
by his rhetoric. 

The creation of our tragic metre was not Marlowe's only Iienefit 
conferred upon the stage. This was indeed but the form correspond- 
ing to the new^ di-amatic method which he also introduced. He first 
taught the art of designing tragedies on a grand scale, displaying unity 
of action, unity of character, and unity of interest. Before his day 
plays had been pageants or versified tales, arranged in scenes, and en- 
livened with 'such conceits as clownage keeps in pay.' He first pro- 
duced dramas worthy of that august title. Before his day it might 
have been reckoned doubtful wliether the rules and precedents of 
the Latin theatre would not determine the style of tragic composition 


iu England as in Italy. After the appearance of "Tamburlaine,' it 
was impossible for a dramatist to attract the public by any play which 
had not in it some portion of the spirit and the pith of that decisive 
work. * * * 

It was the central fire of Marlowe's genius which hardened that 
dull and shapeless matrix of English dramatic poetry, and rendered 
it capable of crystallising flawless and light-darting gems. When we 
remember that Marlowe, born in the same year as Shalcspere, died 
at the early age of twenty-nine, while Shakspere's genius was still, 
so far as the public was concerned, almost a potentiality; when we 
reflect upon the life which Marlowe had to lead among companions of 
debauch in London, and further estimate the degradation of the art 
he raised so high, we are forced to place him among the most original 
creative ix)ets of the world. His actual achievement may be judgeC, 
imperfect, unequal, immature, and limited. Yet nothing lower than 
the highest rank can be claimed for one who did so much, in a space 
of time so short, and under conditions so unfavourable. ^Vhat Shaks- 
pere would have been without Marlowe, how his far more puissant 
arm and wonder-working hand would have moulded English Drama 
without Marlowe, cannot even be surmised. What alone is obvious 
to every student is that Shakspere deigned from the first to tread in 
Marlowe's footsteps, that Shakspere at the last completed and de- 
veloped to the utmost that national embryo of art which Marlowe 
drew forth from the womb of darkness, anarchy, and incoherence. * * * 

And yet, such is the nature of Marlowe's work, that it impera- 
tively indicates a leading motive, irresistibly suggests a catch-word. 
This leading motive which pervades his poetry may be defined as 
L' Amour de I'lmpossible — the love or lust of unattainable things ; be- 
yond the reach of physical force, of sensual facult:^', of mastering will ; 
but not beyond the scope of man's inordinate desire, man's infinite ca- 
pacity for happiness, man's ever-craving thirst for beauty, power, and 
knowledge, * * * 

Let us fix the nature of this leading motive by some salient pass- 
ages from Marlowe's dramas, I take the rudest and the crudest first. 
In the 'Massacre at Paris' the Duke of Guise should not properly 
have been displayed as more than what world-history reveals to us — 
a formidable rival of the House of Valois on the throne, a bloody 
and unscrupulous foe of the Huguenot faction. But the spirit of Mar- 
lowe entering into the unwieldly carcass he has framed for this great 
schemer, breathes these words: 

Oft have I levelled, and at last have learned 

That peril is the chiefest way to happiness 

And resolution honour's fairest aim. ^ 

What glory is there in a common good. 

That hangs for every peasant to achieve? 

That like I best, that flies beyond my reach. 

The central passion which inspires Marlowe and all the characters 
of Marlowe's coinage finds utterance here. The Guise seeks happiness 


through peril ; finds honour only in a fierce resolve ; flings common 
felicity to the winds; strains at the flying object of desire beyond his 
grasp. Then he turns to the definite point of his ambition: 

Set me to scale the high pyramides. 
And thereon set the diadem of France; 
I'll either rend it with my nails to nought, 
Or mount the top with my aspiring wings, 
Although my downfall be the deepest hell. * * * 

This, as I have said, is the barest, nakedest exhibition of Mar- 
lowe's leading motive. He framed one character in which the desires 
of absolute power is paramount ; this is Tamburlaine. When the shep- 
herd-hero is confronted with the vanquished king of Persia, he pours 
himself forth in a monologue which voices Marlowe through the pup- 
pet's lips: 

The thirst of reign and sweetness of a crown, 
That caused the eldest son of heavenly Ops 
To thrust his doting father from his chair, 
And place himself in the empyreal heaven, 
Mov'd me to manage arms against thy state, 
What better precedent than mighty Jove? 
Nature, that fram'd us of four elements 
Warring within our breasts for regiment, 
Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds; 
Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend 
The wondrous architecture of the world. 
And measure every wandering planet's course, 
Still climbing after knowledge infinite, 
And always moving as the restless spheres. 
Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest, 
Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, 
That perfect bliss and sole felicity. 
The sweet fruition of an earthly crown. 

It is Nature herself, says Tamburlaine, who placed a warfare of the 
elements within the frame of man ; she spurs him onward by an in- 
born need toward empire. It is our souls, uncircum scribed by cosmic 
circumstances, free to weigh planets in their courses and embrace the 
universe with thought, that compel men to stake their all on the 
most perilous of fortune's hazards. In this speech the poet, who 
framed Tamburlaine, identifies himself with his creation, forgets the 
person he has made, and utters through his mouth the poetry of his 
desire for the illimitable. 

There was a side-blow aimed at knowledge in this diatribe of 
Tamburlaine on power. See how Faustus answers, abyss calling to 
abyss from the same abysmal depth of the creator's mind : 


Divinity, adieu ! 
These metaphysics of magicians, 
And necromantic books are heavenly ; 
Lines, circles, scenes, letters, and characters ; 
Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. 
O' what a world of profit and delight. 
Of power, of honour, and omnipotence. 
Is promised to the studious artisan ! 
All things that move between the quiet poles 
Shall be at my command: emperors and kings 
Are but obeyed in their several provinces ; 
But his dominion that exceeds in this, 
Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man ; 
A sound magician is a demigod : 
Here tire my brains, to gain a deity. 

On the ordinary paths of learning, logic, philosophy, physic, law, di- 
vinity, Faustus finds himself cramped, tied to dry rules, confined 
within the circle of diurnal occupations. These things may be done 
for services of man's common needs ; but there lies or he divines there 
lies — beyond the reach of all such vulgar and trivial ways, a far 
more hazardous path, a path which by assiduous study and emperil- 
ment of self shall lead to empires, * * * 

Descending from the high imaginative region in which Faustus 
moves, travelling back from the dim realms of Ind, where Tambur- 
laine defies the Fates, reaching England under the reign of our second 
Edward, we find the same chord touched in Marlowe's Mortimer. 
Upon the point of death, checkmated and flung like the Guise 'to 
deepest hell,' he still maintains the old indomitable note, the key- 
note of the leading motive : 

Base Fortune, now I see that in thy wheel 
There is a point, to which when men aspire 
They tumble headlong down: that point I touch'd. 
And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, 
Why should I grieve at my declining fall? — 
Farewell, fair queen: weep not for Mortimer, 
That scorns the world, and, as a traveler, 
Goes to discover countries yet unknown. 

I have pursued the leading motive, applied the catch-word, through 
many examples bearing on the theme of power. It remains to select one 
passage in which the same lust for the impossible shall be exhibited 
when Marlowe turns his thought to beauty. Xenocrate, the love of 
Tamburlaine, is absent and unhappy. The Tartar chief is left alone to 
vent his passion in soliloquy. At first he dwells upon the causes of her 
sorrow, with such 'lyrical interbreathings' as this, evoked from the recol- 
lection of her — 


Shiiuiig face. 

Where Beanty, mother to the muses, sits 
And comments rolnmes with her ivorr pen. 

Gradnally he passes into that vein of meditatiOTi, which allows the poet's 
insE-iratlon to transpire. Then Marlowe Sf^eaks, and shows in memo- 
rable lines that beanty has. no less than pi-wer. her own impossible, for 
which he thirste^l : 

What is tteauty. sayeth my suffering's, then? 
K all the pens that ever poets held 
Had fed the feeling of their masters thoughts. 
And every sweetness that insf«ired their hearts. 
Their minds and muses on admired themes : 
If all the heavenly quintessence they still 
From their immortal flowers of pi^esy. 
Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive 
The highest reaches of a human wit; 
K these had made one p«>em*s r>eriod. 
And all combined in beauty's worthiness. 
Yet should there hover in their restless heads 
One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least. 
Which into words no virtue can digest. 

The impossible beauty, on which Tamburlaine here meditates, is beauty 
eluding the poet and the artist in their highest flight: that apple top- 
most on the t(^most bough, which the gatherers have not overlooked, 
but leave perforce, bec-ause they strove in vain to reach it. It is always 
this t>eauty. inflaming the artist's rather than the lover's soul, which 
Marlowe c-elebrates. He has written no drama of love: and even in 
•Hero and Leander.* that divinest dithyramb in praise of sensual beauty, 
the poet moves in a hyperuranian region, from which he contemplates 
with eyes of equal adoration all the species of terrestrial loveliness. 
The tender emotions and the sentiment of love were alien to Marlowe's 
temper. It may even be doubted whether sexual pleasures had any very 
powerful attraction for his nature. To such, we think, he gave hi* 
cruder, poetry-exhausted moment. When he evoked the thought of 
women to tempt Doctor Faustus, he touched this bass-chord of c-amal 
desire with the hand of a poet-painter rather than a sensualist: 

Sometimes like women, or un wedded maids. 
Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows 
Than have the white breasts of the queen of love. 

Yet it was in no Platonic mood that he set those mighty sails of his 
imagination to the breeze upon the sea of Beanty. That thirst for the 
impossible, when once applied to things of seiL^e and loveliness, is a 
lust and longing after the abstraction of all beauties, the self of sense, 
the of plea.sures. This is, of course, the meaning of Faus- 


tus' address to Helen, summoned from the ghosts as the hist tangible 
reality of beauty, to give comfort to his conscience-laden soul : 

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, 

And burnt the topless to\yers of Ilium? — 

Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. — ( Kisses her) 

Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies I — 

Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. 

Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips. 

And all is dross that is not Helena. 

O, thou art fairer than the evening air, 
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; 
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter 
When he appeared to hapless Semele ; 
More lovely than the monarch of the sky 
In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms : 
And none but thou shalt be my paramour! 

The same triumphant sense of having conquered the unconquerable, and 
enjoyed the final gust of pleasure in things deemed impossible for men, 
emerges in another speech of Faustus : 

Have I not made blind Homer sing to me 
Of Alexander's love and Oenon's death? 
And hath not he, that built the walls of Thebes 
With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, 
Made music with my Mephistophilis? 

When Xenocrate is dying Tamburlaine pours forth a monody, which, 
however misplaced on his lips, gives Marlowe scope to sing the nuptial 
hymn of beauty unapproachable, withdrawn from 'loathsome earth,' re- 
turning to her native station in the heavens. There, and there only, 
says the poet, shall the spirit mate with loveliness and be at peace in 
her embrace : 

Xow walk the angels on the walls of heaven. 

As sentinels to warn the immortal souls 

To entertain the divine Xenocrate * * * 

The cherubins and holy seraphins. 

That sing and play before the King of kings. 

Use all their voices and their instruments 

To entertain divine Xenocrate : 

And in this sweet and curious harmony. 

The god that tunes this music to our souls •^ 

Holds out his hand in highest majesty 

To entertain divine Xenocrate. 

Then let some lioly trance convey my thoughts 

Up to the palace of the empyreal heaven. 

That this my life may be as short to me 

As are the days of sweet Xenocrate. 


In this rapturous and spiritual marriage-song, which celebrates the 
assumption or apotheosis of pure beauty, the master bends his mighty 
line to uses of lyric poetry, as though a theme so far above the reach 
of words demanded singing * * * 

In dealing with Marlowe, it is impossible to separate the poer from 
the dramatist, the man from his creations. His personality does not 
retire, like Shakspere's, behind the work of art into impenetrable mys- 
tei"y. Rather. like Byron, but with a truer faculty for dramatic pre- 
sentation than Byron possessed, he inspires the principal characters of 
his tragedies with the ardour, the ambition, the audacity of his own 
restless genius. Tamburlaine. who defies heaven, and harnesses kings 
and princes of the East to his chariot, who ascends his throne upon 
the necks of prostrate emperors, and burns a city for his consort's fune- 
ral pyre, embodies the insolence of his creator's spirit. At the same 
time, in this haughty and aspiring shepherd the historic Tartar chief 
is firmly rendered visible. Through Tamburlaine's wild will and imper- 
turable reliance upon destiny, the brute instincts of savage tribes yearn- 
ing after change, pursuing conquest and spreading desolation with the 
irresistible impulse of a herd of bisons marching to their fields of salt, 
emerge into self-consciousness. Marlowe has traced the portrait with 
a bold hand, filling its details in broad and liberal touches : 

Of stature tall, and straightly fashioned, 

Like his desires, lift upward and divine : 

So large of limbs, his joints so strongly knit. 

Such breadth of shoulders as might mainly bear 

Old Atlas's burden * * * 

Pale of complexion, wrought in him with passion, 

Thirsting with the sovereignty and love of arms ; 

His lofty brows in folds do figure death, 

And in their smoothness amity and life ; 

About them hangs a knot of amber hair, , 

Wrapped in curls, as fierce Achilles' was, 

On which the breath of heaven delights to play. 

Making it dance in wanton majesty ; 

His arms and fingers, long and sinewy, 

Betokening valour and excess of strength ; 

In every part proportioned like the man 

Should make the world subdued to Tamburlaine. 

This is the picture drawn of him at the beginning of his fortunes by 
a generous enemy. There is a magnetism in the presence of the man. 
A Persian captain, commissioned to overawe and trample down his 
pride, no sooner sees Tamburlaine than he falls a victim to his influence : 

His looks do menace heaven and dare the gods : 

His fiery eyes are fixed upon the earth. 

As if he now desired some stratagem, 

Or meant to pierce Avemus' darksome vaults, 

To pull the triple-headed dog from hell. 


Tamburlaine, on his side, favours the manly bearing of bis face, antl 
bids him welcome with such words as bind the captain to his cause : 

Forsake thy king, and do but join with me, 
And we will triumph over all the world. 
I hold the fates bound fast in iron chains, 
And with my hand turn Fortune's wlieel about. 

Such confidence is contagious, imposing, as Napoleon's belief in his star 
imposed, and working out its own accomplishment. His most powerful 
opponents recognise the spell, and are cowed by it : 

Some powers divine, or else infernal, mixed 
Their angry seeds at his conception ; 
For he was never sprung of human race, 
Since with the spirit of his fearful pride 
He dares so doubtlessly resolve of rule. 
And by profession be ambitious. 





The Society of the New York Hospital, 

White Plains, 
New York, 
July 3d, 1897. 
Hon. Micajah Woods, t 

Commonwealth's Attorney, 



My Dear Captain: You will possibly be surprised to hear that I 
am not abroad, as is generally thought; but am confined without due 
process of law, in a New York private Insane Asylum, whither I was 
brought by force against my expressed will; having been arrested by 
two officers in plain clothes on an order from a Judge of the Supreme 
Court of the State of New York. 

You will pardon the length of this letter when I say that I wish 
to employ you as assistant counsel in co-operation with Senator John 
W. Daniel, as leading counsel, in a habeas corpus proceedings which 
I wish instituted without delay. 

I enclose a certified copy of my Commitment Papers, which I sug- 
gest that you defer reading until you have finished this letter, as they 
are a tissue of perjuries from beginning to end, and this letter will 
point out and prove the said perjuries in their order. 

Before going into the Commitment Papers I shall give you a short 
account of what led to my present predicament. 

I have been on unfriendly terms with my familj' — my brothers 
and sisters — for a long time. 

It is not necessary to go into the causes which led to this state 
of affairs, except to say that they are partly business and partly tem- 
peramental. The line of demarcation began nine years ago and has 
gradually extended ever since. The climax of unpleasantness was 

Since deceased. 


reached last October. My youngost sister was then married, and I was 
to have "given her away." Ill health prevented my presence at the 
wedding. I had been confined to my bed in my home, "'The Merry 
Mills," Cobham, Albemarle County, Virginia, for several days before 
its date, and was in bed at the time. The wedding took place at my 
sister's home on the Hudson River. I sent a note by a special mes- 
senger, explaining my inability to be present, and also bearing a hand- 
some present from myself to the bride. 

The messenger arrived at my sister's home the day before the 
wedding. As there were four other brothers of the bride present at 
the wedding, I felt that my absence would throw no difficulty in the 
v,ay of "giving her away." 

It seems that my absence from that wedding was one of the main 
causes of my present incarceration in a madhouse. 

About a month later one of my sisters — with whom I was on better 
terms than with my other brothers and sisters — while lunching wuth 
me during one of my business trips to New York, said touching my 
absence from the wedding, that the family, including my brothers and 
sisters, were not put out at my absence from the wedding — they simply 
considered me crazy. 

I did not pay much attention to this — thinking it a species of joke, 
to which I had grown accustomed from years of hearing. For when- 
ever, in the course of an argument with any of my brothers or sisters 
I said anything whicL they found difficult to combat, their usual reply 
was, "You're crazy," 

You must excuse my touching upon such a seemingly unimportant 
matter, but in crime nothing is unimportant, and you will see before 
finishing this letter that a crime has been committed against the lib- 
erty and the reason of a citizen of the sovereign State of Virginia — 

The next com.plication of the already severely strained relations 
between ' the family" and myself occurred in December last. I was 
still detained in New York on the business trip before alluded to. At 
a Directors' ^Meeting of the Roanoke Rapids Pov>'er Co., of Roanoke 
Rapids, North Carolina, held in New York last December, a most vio- 
lent altercation arose between my brother, Mr. Winthrop Astor Chan- 
ler and myself. The upshot of it was that he wrote me a letter next 
day refusing to speak to m.e or to have any further communication 
with me except in writing or through third parties. As this brother 
had struck me some j'ears ago, and had quarrelled violently with me 
frequently since, the above communication did not surprise me. Mr. 
Winthrop Astor Chanler is one year my junior, and was director with 
me in the United Industrial Company. 

I accepted his proposition and sent a representative next day to 
say to him that I did so. I also notified him that I should send a 
representative to go over the books of my father's estate, of which he 
was an executor. This estate has furnished but two accountings in 


ten years. I do not suspect my brothers of v/ilful mismanagement, but 
I do suspect the lawyers whom they employ to do the work of invest- 
ment, etc., for them, of investments which are more to their own in- 
terests than that of the said estate. My brother agreed to my propo- 
sition and I thought no more about it. 

About this time I returned to my home in Virginia. I had 
arranged my business affairs before leaving so as to allow me to take 
at least two months rest. 

I must tell you that for some years I have been carrying on in- 
vestigations in Esoteric Buddhism. You must not imagine from this 
that I am not a Christian; for I am a communicant in the Episcopal 

My investigations were entirely scientific in their nature and 
totally free from any tinge of religion. They supposed a state of mind 
, open to impressions and free from prejudices. I am not going to bore 
you with a lecture on Esoteric Buddhism, and shall dismiss the sub- 
ject. In the latter part of February last I received a telegram from 
my friend, Mr. Stanford White, proposing to visit me in company with 
a mutual friend. As I was on rather unfriendly terms with Mr. White 
at the time, owing to an abusive letter he had recently written me, 
I did not look forward to a visit from him with pleasure. I therefore 
sent him a telegram to say that I was not well enough to see him. A 
few days later Mr. White walked in on me in company with a physi- 
cian. I shall not attempt to picture my surprise. Let it suffice to say 
that I was struck dumb. 

Mr. White hastily excused his intrusion and implored me to accom- 
pany him to New York for a "plunge in the metropolitan whirl." As 
I had some business which needed my attention in New York I con- 

I stopped at the Hotel Kensington, 15th Street and 5th Avenue, 
where I have been in the habit of putting up on my business trips to 
New York. A day or so after my arrival, and while immersed in my 
business affairs, the physician who had accompanied Mr. White to 
"The Merry Mills" presented himself in my rooms followed by a 
stranger, whom he introduced as an oculist. 

The reason he gave for breaking in on my privacy was the in- 
tense desire on the part of his friend, the Oculist, to examine my eyes. 

I might say here incidentally that during my rest at home in 
Virginia my eyes had undergone rather a remarkable change. Their 
color having changed from brown to gray. I shall resume that sub- 
ject later, and shall merely say that after criticising Dr. E. F., the 
physician who had accompanied Mr. White to my home in Virginia, 
rather severely for bringing a stranger into my rooms without asking 
permission, I allowed Dr. Moses Allen Starr, the Oculist, to examine 
my eyes. Dr. Starr took a lense from his pocket and asking me to go 
to the light examined my eyes attentively, he unhesitatingly pro- 
nounced them gray in color. 


I may as well re-open the subject of the change of color of my 

You may have noticed that my eyes were light brown. I say "may 
have," for that assumes two things; first, that you are free from that 
not unusual affection, color blindness; second, that you have the rather 
unusual powers of observation demanded by my assumption that you 
noticed eyes at all. 

At ail events they were light brown. The extraneous and corrobo- 
rative eveidence of this fact is the description of Bering's eyes, on 
page 39 of the latest edition of "The Quick or The Dead," which I en- 
close, having been sketched from me. I allude to the features of 
course, the occurrences in the book being entirely imaginary. I have 
the Princess Troubetskoy's word for this: It is also a matter of almost 
common knowledge: The New^ York "World"t having published an 
article on the Princess Troubetskoy, in February, 1896 — if I remember 
rightly — which quoted as descriptive of me the passage above referred 
to on page 39 of, "The Quick or The Dead"; and the writer of the said 
article vouched for its correctness as a description of my personal ap- 
ppearance, in the article itself. You will observe that Dering's eyes 
are described as "the color of Autumn pools in sunlight." I need not 
say to a Virginian that the color of Autumn pools in sunlight is brown, 
a sparkling or bright brown. The pools meant are the deep quiet 
places in streams into which the dead leaves fall covering the bottom 
and giving a dark brown appearnce to the water, which is lightened 
or brightened when the sun plays upon the 

So much for what the color of my eyes was before they changed. 
Their color now is dark gray. As authority for this statement I have 
the testimony of every physician who has examined them — and there 

tExcerpt from an article appearing in the New York "Sun" of 
August 17, 190^: 

"In 1888 he (John Armstrong Chaloner) was married to Amelie 
Rives, and he was said to be the hero of her book. "The Quick or the 
Dead." Seven year later proceedings for divorce were begun on the 
ground of incompatibility of temperament. Immediately after the 
divorce was granted Mrs. Chaloner married Prince Pierre Troubetzkoy, 
the artist." 

tTo Whom If Map Concern : 

I, the undersigned, have been asked by mutual friends to say 
whether the statements in the New York "World" in the early part of 
the year 1896, and in the New York "Sun" in August, 1904. to the 
effect that the leading male character in "The Quick or the Dead" 
was sketched from Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner are correct, say that 
the statements are correct. By that I m.ean that the physical descrip- 
tion of Dering was a correct, even an exact description of Mr. Chaloner 
in the year 1895. I do not wish to be misimderstood in this regard. 
I do not wish to be understood as saying that the words and actions 
of Dering were those of Mr. Chaloner. For the words and actions of 
Dering were wholly imaginary. 


have been three — besides that of subordinates in this establishment 
whose opinion, as to the color oi my eyes, I have asked. You must 
excuse my dilating upon so seemingly unimportant a subject as the 
color of my eyes; but I assure you it is far from unimportant in this 
case, for the first count in the indictment against my reason, in the 
Commitment Papers, made by the "Medical Examiners in Lunacy," is 
to the effect that I am insane, because I say that my eyes have changed 
color; both said Medical Examiners in Lunacy having freely admitted 
that my eyes are undeniably gray. Apparently they hope to prove that 
gray has always been the color of my eyes. 

The next step in the proceedings was a nocturnal visit from Dr. 
Moses Allen Starr, the Oculist, accompanied by another doctor, whom 
I had never seen, and two unknown men. Dr. Starr pushed his way 
into my rooms followed by the strange doctor unannounced. The two 
unknown men remained outside of my door. He then briefly informed 
me that he (Dr. Starr) v\-as a Professor of Nervous Diseases in a New- 
York College and that I was insane. He went on to say that he had 
come to take me away — he omitted to state where — immediately — that 
I must get up at once (I was in bed at the time) that resistance on 
jnj part would be useless as there was another doctor — the said 
strange doctor — in the next room besides two other men — the said un- 
known men — outside the door. 

It is not necessary to repeat my reply. I shall simply say that I 
very quietly, but at the same time effectively, refused to obey Dr. 
Starr's orders. I finally succeeded in convincing Dr. Starr without 
the slightest show^ of force that he bad not brought enough men with 
him to carry me off that night. 

The next afternoon two policemen, in plain clothes, presented 
themselves at my hotel with the Commitment Papers, a certified copy 

Furthermore, I have been asked by the same mutual friends to 
explain just what color I meant to convey by the term — as applied to 
the color of Bering's eyes — "Autumn ix)ols." I meant by this expres- 
sion the color brown. The iris of Mr. Chaloner's eyes was in 1S05 en- 
tirely brown. 

Witness the following signature and seal this 21st dav of February. 


State of Virginia: 

County of Albemarle : to-wit, 

I, H. W. Wood, a Notary Public in and for the County of Albe- 
marle, in the State of Virginia, do certify that Amelie Troubrezk<\v, 
whose name is signed to the foregoing writing, benring date on the 
21st day of February, 1905, has acknowledged the same before nie in 
my county aforesaid. 

Given under mv hand this 21st dav of February. 100.~>. 

H. W. WOOD. N. P. 

My term expires April 15. 1908. 


of which I enclose. I accompanied them without unnecessary discus- 
sion to this Private Insane Asylum. 

Before going into the Commitment Papers, I shall briefly touch 
on my life here for the past four months. I was brought here the 
13th of March. Since that time I have been in solitary confinement, 
in a two-roomed cell. A keeper sleeps in one of the rooms of my 
cell, and he is always with me. When I take exercise in the Asylum 
grounds the keeper accompanies me. My razors were seized on the 
ground that it was "a rule of the Institution." The consequence was 
that I had to be shaved by the Asylum barber, w^hich caused me not 
only inconvenience but hardship, since my beard is thick and my skin 
is thin and no barber has been able to shave me without causing a 
violent irritation of the skin, a condition which is always absent when 
I shave myself. 

You must excuse the above apparently trivial incident, but you 
will appreciate the annoyance it is to be shaved by the Asylum barber. 
AY hen I tell you, that his shaving raised such a rash on my neck that 


An article to the following effect appeared in a New York City 
nevrspaper early in 1901: "The mystery shrouding the fate of John 
Armstrong Chaloner, who on Thanksgiving Eve, 1900, escaped from 
Bloomingdale Asylum, is as thick as ever. From time to time, as 
a dead tramp is fished up in some outlying pond of Hoboken or Jersey 
City, a rumor is started that the body of the young millionaire has 
been found. The following is the police description of him sent out 
with the general alarm that was sent out shortly after Mr. Chaloner's 
escape : 

" 'Height five feet ten and three-quarter inches ; weight about one 
hundred and seventy pounds; face clean shaved; hair dark and curly, 
worn rather long ; eyes dark gray ; regular, classic features. Holds 
himself erect, walks with a swinging stride, and carries a cane. He 
was dressed as follows : Black fedora hat, navy-blue melton overcoat, 
dark green sack coat and waistcoat, steel gray trousers, black satin 
four-in-hand tie with large gray pearl stickpin.' 

''When will they catch up with him is the question. The police of 
all the cities in the country are on the watch, while sleuths — men 
trained to hunt down men — are seeking the man with the weak mind." 

^Richmond, Virginia, February 24, 1915. 

Time has treated "Who's Looney Nowriightly; in spite of his 
incessant legal conflict, and more or less turhulent career. The above 
polite description of "Who's Looney Xoicf vjould exactly describe him 
today: for his hair is as dark and plentiful as ever, and his weight no 
greater than in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and one. He- 
redity is probably responsible for said state of things. The long line 
of martial ancestors from tchich "Who's Looney 'Nowf is descended 
makes itself felt — on the maxim "blood will tell." And hence fighting 
is "Who's Looney Novfsr' deligJit — fighting in a good cause: such as 
fighting for Lunacy Law reform against the criminal lethargy of the 
great American people: and the embittered and venemously bitter 
opposition of the press, supported by the Legal Profession — both Bar 
and Bench — State and Federal — in New York situate. 


I have limited his operations to twice a week; thus giving the inflam- 
mation time to subside — to begin afresh on the next shave. 

You know, from my having had the pleasure of dining at your 
bouse, that I am limited to a very abstemious diet, that I am practi- 
cally a vegetarian. 

You also probably know that I ride a great deal on horseback. 
It is, in fact, my favorite and only form of outdoor exercise. You 
can well imagine the deleterious effect upon my health, resultant from 
a combination of bad cooking, poor food and total deprivation of horse- 
back exercise. Of the cooking I shall simply say that the Asylum 
cooks cannot even bake bread, though they daily attempt it. So that 
I have been forced to buy crackers to avoid the violent indigestion 
the half-baked bread causes me. Of the food I shall simply saj that 
itj has been so bad that I have come down to a daily diet of baked 
potatoes, lettuce, fruit and crackers in order to avoid eating food 
which is badly cooked, adulterated or decayed. 

In the meantime I am living in a Madhouse. Every "patient" in 
the building in which I am imprisoned is hopelessly insane. At times 
some of them become violently, homicidally, insane, when, after yells 
and struggles with keepers, and a siege in a straight-jacket, they are 
forcibly removed to another ward. Since my arrival two patients 
were removed from this building for having become "violent," as they 
call it here. 

Nothing prevents a patient from becoming, homicidally insane 
at any time. In one of such fits of frenzy the lunatic might take it 
into his head to walk into my cell and attack me. The cell doors are 
unlocked, and although there is a keeper on watch on my floor, he 
is not always there. To give me warning of the approach of prowling 
maniacs I put a table against my door at night. 

This will give you an idea of my surroundings. I think that you 
will ag,ree with me that they are calculated to drive a man inane. 
When you add to these "surroundings" the active and sustained efforts 
of the resident doctors to talk me into becoming insane by declaring 
to my face that I am insane, and attempting to argue me into admit- 
ting that I am; when you consider this, you will, I think, conclude 
that I have my nerves and will-power under effective control in being 
able to remain sane. 

So much for my life for the last four months. This is the first 
opportunity which I have had for posting a letter unknown to the 
authorities here. The rule is that all letters and telegrams must be 
sent through the authorities here, who have the legal right to suppress 
or forward to "The Commission in Lunacy" at Albany, who have again 
the legal right to suppress and destroy them. You can readily under- 
stand that I would not send a letter under such conditions. Hence 
my having to wait four months to write to you and ask your aid. 

The next thing to be considered is the Commitment Papers. I 
shall only touch upon that briefly for it speaks for itself. 


In the first place the Commitment Papers give my residence as 
"Hotel Kensington,! New York City." This is false, as my residence 
since 1895 has been "The Merry Mills," Cobham, Albemarle County, 
Virginia. Trow's Directory of New York City gives my residence 
Virginia. In Trow's Directory for July, 1896, to July, 1897, you will 
find "J. A. Chaloner, Lawyer, 120 Broadway, H. Va." "H" stands for 
House, i. e, home, residence, and "Va." of course stands for Virginia. 

I have never practiced law in New York, but have been a silent 
partner in the law firm of "Chaloner, Maxwell and Philip, 120 Broad- 
way," which firm name you will find a few places below my own in 
Trow's Directory of the aibove date. 

There can be no doubt about my residence's being in Virginia, for 
in 1895 I went to the Commissioner of Taxes' Office in the Stewart 
Building, corner Broadway and Chambers Street, and myself wrote, at 
his request, in the Tax Book a full description of ray residence. It 
is, of course, there yet. It is to the effect that I was interested in a 
law firm in New York, but that I did not personally practice law in 
New York, as the business I had charge of was a manufacturing one in 
Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina, and that my home, "The Merry 
Mills," where I lived, was at Cobham, Virginia. The object of the 
above visit was to fix the amount of my personal tax in New York. 
The amount fixed was $2,500 (twenty-five hundred dollars). This 
took place in 1895, and neither the amount nor my address has since 
been changed. 

Moreover, no better evidence as to my residence's being in Vir- 
ginia could be asked than is offered by the sworn testimony of the 

tJohn R. Bland, Cash Capital, $1,700,000. Geo. R. Callis, 

President. Secretary-Treasurer. 

The United States Fidelity and Guaranty Company, 
Baltimore, Md. 
Andrew Freedman, 

Vice-President. , 

Sylvester J. O' Sullivan, 

66 Liberty Street, New York, March 14, 1905. 
Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner, 

"The Merry Mills," 

Cobham, Va. 
My Dear Chaloner: 

In reply to your letter requesting my views regarding your alleged 
former residence at the Hotel Kensington, Fifth Avenue and Fif- 
teenth Street, Borough of Manhattan, City of New York, in 1896 and 
1897, I beg to state as follows : 

I was proprietor of that hotel from April 1, 1894, to April, 1897. 
I do not think you ever stopped there prior to my assuming control 
of it. I do believe you came there solely on my account. You never 
were in any sense a resident guest of that hotel. You never were any 
other than a transient guest. You never engaged rooms there other 
than by the day. Your visits there were infrequent, yet I believe you 
stopped there every time you came to New York while I conducted 


three petitioners (my brothers, Messrs. Winthrop Astor Chanler, Lewis 

Stuyvesant Chanler and ). Page 

3, lines 141 and 142 of the Commitment Papers, where they declare: 
"Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner has, for several months, while at his 
home in Virginia": this should settle any doubt about my residence. 

It might be well to state before going any further, the probable 
causes which led to the said brothers* wishing to see me declared in- 
sane and confined in an Insane Asylum. 

You will remember that abusive letter v\-ritten me immediately 
after the Directors" Meeting of the Roanoke Rapids Power Company 
in December last by this same brother, Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler, 
In which he refused to speak to me or have anything further to do 
with me except by letter or third parties. You will also remember 
that I accepted his terms and informed him that I would have the 
books of my Father's Estate, of which he was an Executor, examined. 
You must know that there are two Executors of my Father's Estate. 
One of them is Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler and the other is Mr. Lewis 
Stuyvesant Chanler. These two gentlemen, who are equally to blame 
for what I am compelled to believe is innocent but palpable misman- 
agement of my Father's Estate, join hands in petitioning for my in- 
carceration in an Insane Asylum before I had the opportunity to in- 
vestigate their mismanagement — but two accountings of their manage- 
ment of the said Estate having been rendered in ten years. 

Furthermore. As I have told you there has for years past been no 
love lost between my family and myself. When affection is absent 
and business interests are present it behooves a careful man to look 
about him, and see, in seeking for the solution of an obscure action, 
whether or not it could have been to the parties' business interests 
to do an otherwise incomprehensibly malicious thing. 

that hotel. As a rule, you came on each year to the Horse Show, 
and on those visits you, of course, spent the week said show was in 
progress, and I believe on one. or possibly two occasions, your visit 
at that season was prolonged to several weeks. Other than the Horse 
Show week mentioned above, my recollection is that you did not come 
to that hotel more than once or twice a year, and on some of these 
visits your stay was only for a day or two. 

I well remember having several prolonged conversations with yon 
about some large enterprises you had on hand in North Carolina, and 
that almost the entire year of 189.'» was spent by you in the South in 
the conduct of said enteiT»rises. 

You were at the Kensington during the Horse Show week in No- 
vember, 18f)6. and left there for the South in December. You returned 
again in February of 1807 and left in March. Of course, I could not 
recollect the exact dates of your arrival and departure on those visits, 
but I again repeat in the strongest terms possible that you never were 
at any time, to my knowledge, a resident guest of that hotel, but were 
always looked upon by myself and all the attaches of the hotel as a 
transient guest. 

Verv trulv vours. 

•5- Since deceased. 



The business end of the present situation throws a bright light 
upon it. 

Under my Father's Will I enjoy an eighth of the income of his 
Estate during my life. At my death without issue my said share 
reverts to his Estate. Should I leave issue my said share would go 
to said issue. It is therefore evidently to the business interests of my 
family to prevent my marrying by locking me up for life in an Insane 
Asylum, if possible, and if that is not possible the next best step 
towards safe-guarding their business interests is to throw, if possible 
an insurmountable obstacle in the way of my marrying. No more 
insurmountable obstacle in the way of marriage could be imagined 
than insanity. 

Granting that I get out of this Asylum the stigma of having been 
confined in it would stick to me through life. You need not necessarily 
infer that I have any intentions of marrying, only I like to retain the 
privilege of the option. 

Further. There is every human probability that, were I to be 
confined in these surroundings long enough, my mental and physical 
forces would succumb to the hideous moral strain and confinement. 
When this took place my family would be appointed a commission to 
administer my Estate. I being by that time a ibona fide — instead of 
what I am at present a bogus-maniac. I have an estate which bids 
fair to be very valuable in time. Certain portions of that estate are 
represented by large stockholdings in the United Industrial Company 
and the Roanoke Rapids Power Company. These said holdings could 
be sold to third parties, with the understanding that they were to be 
bought back at a certain figure, by one or more of my brothers or 
sisters, who already hold stock in the said companies, and who 
I know would like to increase their holdings — once the said "family 
commission" for my estate came into being. 

Furthermore. Nothing would be easier than to break my will 
on the ground of insanity, now that I have been declared insane and 
confined as an insane person in an Insane Asylum: that my family 
would make every effort to break my will I make no doubt. For two 
reasons. First because of their unfriendly attitude toward me for 
years past. Second because they are in a position to know that I have 
left all of them out of my will, except onet sister and that — strictly 
confidentially — my largest legatee is the University of Virginia for 
which, on account of its own character and that of Thomas Jefferson, 
I have a high admiration. 

Furthermore. The United Industrial Company of which I am the 
controlling stockholder, and of which I was a Director last December, 
held its annual meeting for the election of officers for the ensuing 
year, the first week in January last. My brother, Mr. Winthrop Astor 

tNoTE. — Since writing above said sister has been left out of said 
will, owing to her attitude in the present controversy. 


deeted 1^ mj Yoibes, as PnaOeat of the 
pany the preceding year at a salazr ol $2,000.00 per amumn After 
reoeiTing tbe abnsire letter before alluded to, from Mm last December, 

T de^-l'ie^ to elect myself Pre?i'3eiit of the United Industrial Coisvaiiy 
1- 1.5 : T EHs said lelir? :: zir in'ong specifically stated z:li: 'l- 
^ : M li I.:: sirS.'^ to me ari- :: li any communication vri/: zit 
tI ti: .r-.-.-: or third pir.T; i:-i r-^ndered it a business i— _ :--. 

: :: ::: ^iit :: -.^ - :.s Pri r" : : 7 z: pany, a man who ^5 
:- sTri ::z tTzis : :: z:.7 = -'-' - lies being the con::: :i£ 

stockholder —;:= -.-r :: :1 Z :.:: :: I :t : rs 

I ha^l it irl :i:r.: : l ryTi :: .: '^'ii^ihiop Astor Chanler by 
third par::T5 5:i:ir ii s t:::t :Zt t. :: i.. that it would :^ s.5 ^ell 
for him :: rfsiii. i:- ?:-:.:t~ :: :; -. i^ ':: Is members _. :l ihe 
Board of I :r^:::; :: : t /:: : i I : ; :: 1 zi; iny. This _ : zi?t- 
lydid,£::i i: ::i- t:!;-::.; t:t:::::: :i ~}..z:^^:- :' I -:-:::_ : ;::"-■ 
for I was ::: 'l:-il^ :z "irri-:^. i: ::it ::iit r;-::T7 :i:" =t;: Z:^:::^-: 
of the Unitei I-i i :::: : smpany in his pl£ : r ::? :i : - 1: Z irl 
of Direct€»rs oi liiy o^n cioosing, to wbOT!2 I iiii ::t : :i; : rr^i 
enou^ stock in the Company to rezirr .z^zi eir: t ::--t: :1t I^^ 
to hold office. 

It mi^it be well for you to bear in in:- i 'l:-.-. '.'z^ 2::-^ rr-:.u- 
tiimary and delicate stock manipulsUdon ~ : E :i. rl ri :-i tit : -: 
by an allied maniac Wot the conce;: :- :: :'1t : ;^ :' i- : :_ 
place on recmpt (^ Mr. Winthrop Astor :ii- . : 5 s :: ::er. 

about the middle of Decec^ber l2?t. szil :Zt irr: :i^ ; :: : : - 

January of "97. Whereas n" : t^St": .\::: Z :: -- Trf: 1-5.1.:: - 
according to the Commilr t : ?: tTs :- N rii;: l 

Mr- Winthrop Astor 0-^5: 5 : : :: :r. tt-s 
Industrial Company. The 5 : : : ::: r = : : : 
town of Roanoke Rapids, X:r:i: r^.rili^: 11 t :; 
the said Company. Finding L ust.: \i^:'.:zi: -^ L 
appar^itly out of re^?^!?^ 211I ::i:TrTs: ::: _:: ;:: 
the control of tlie 5i:i ::zi:i--i7 i-- :1-:t 7 : 
my hands. It wis : is: :^: r?:^ ' : .:-:t- s:i£e 

It is necessary -:r l:t -: -:.:::^ :-, .Z::: ;':^:ts::;:. :.^-: :- ::'^r -0 
^Te you all the :i. : t : s : : : Z 

Mr. Stanford v^ -::r 2^:::: is - :Zr s:::?5 Pr Z: 
to me last February in 'Se^ Z : :: 1 :~ty, thai he 

thought I should take an ex:: : and that ic 

would give him great pleasur-^ : I - :t i Mr. Saint 

Gaudens — the distinguished s : -nd Wt. 

White's most intimate friend — r_saet all 

my business and look after aL 

H^-e was the si>ectacle of cessful, and eminent men 

willing to take upon themselTes all the work and worry of my affairs 
for friendship's sake. I was touched. I thought that there might 
be something behind aU this, but I did not impute selfish motives to 
either of than. 

:i in 


s ;.oo 




'":::• to 


: c: 

r declined the services of Mr. Saint Gaudens but accepted those 
of Mr. Stanford White. My reason for so doing was that business 
was extremely dull, and I thought that if Mr. White wanted td help 
me run my affairs there would be no harm in letting him do so, I 
being able to revoke the power of attorney at any time and being able 
to supervise his work meanwhile. So I gave him a limited power of 

I also at his request resigned from the Board of Directors of the 
Roanoke Rapids Power Company to make room for Mr. White on that 
Board. Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler's presence on said Board would 
have made the transaction of business difficult owing to his disinclina- 
tion to talk to me, w^hereas Mr. White is one of his closest friends. 

I also resigned from the Presidency of the United Industrial Com- 
pany, Mr. White thereby becoming a Director of the said Company 
and one of my previously chosen Directors being elected to fill my 
place as President. 

All this having been arranged I was about to return to Virginia 
to await the arrival of "the McKinley wave of prosperity" when I 
was arrested and brought here. 

As I said it appears that my brother wished to prevent my mak- 
ing use of the power I had attained in the United Industrial Company 
by locking me up in an Insane Asylum. He achieved his end. 

Lastly I hold a note of the United Industrial Company for about 
$14,000 (fourteen thousand dollars) ; this note is past due. It would 
greatly embarrass Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler were I to demand its 
payment. How much has the fear that I would do so had to with 
his locking me up? The said amount of the note was advanced by me 
to the said Company. He owns $50,000 (fifty thousand dollars) worth 
of the said Company's stock, and others of my immediate family own 
about $25,000 (twenty-five thousand dollars) worth of the same stock. 
It would pay them to join forces and repay me their pro rata share 
of my overdue advance to said Company, rather than have said note 
go to protest and legal proceedings ensue. 

Cheapest of all however is to lock me up out of reach of "protest." 

I think I have given you enough of the business end of this con- 
spiracy for you to see clearly that it was to my brothers', Messrs. 
Winthrop Astor Chanler and Lewis Stuyvesant 'Chanler (the Co- 
Trustees of my Father's Estate) interest, as w^ell as to that of my 
whole family, that I should disappear for an indefinite period. Add to 
their business interests the strong personal interest of jealousy and 
dislike and you have a powerful working incentive. 

We may now resume the perusal of the Commitment Papers. You 
will remark that the three Petitioners, Messrs. Winthrop Astor Chan- 
ler, Lewis Stuyvesant Chanler and , swear that 

the acts alleged to have been committed by me in Virginia and in 
New York are of their own knowledge. For you will note on Page 4 
of the Commitment Papers line 165 to line 168 "Winthrop A. Chanler, 


Lewis S. Clianler and being duly sworn, depose and 

say: that they have read the foregoing petition and know the contents 
thereof, and that the same is true to the knowledge of deponents except 
as to the matter therein stated, to be alleged on information and 

As there are no "matters therein stated to be alleged on informa- 
tion and belief" the matters therein alleged must therefore all be "true 
to the knowledge of deponents"; in swearing that the said matters 
were "true to the knowledge of deponents" the said deponents Messrs. 

Winthrop A. Chanler, Lewis S. Chanler and perjured 

themselves; for not one of the said deponents has ever crossed the 
threshold of my "home in Virginia," where part of the alleged acts 
are sworn by said deponents to have been committed; and not one of 
the said deponents saw me later in New York where the remainder 
of the said alleged acts are sworn by said deponents to have been com- 

One of these said deponents, Mr. Lewis S. Chanler, was in Europe 
just prior to the 10th of March, but having sailed from England on a 
cable's notice, reached New York in time to swear "on March 10th to 
alleged acts committed by me while he was abroad or on the ocean. 

The said deponent I have not seen since 1894. 

The said deponent Mr. Winthrop A. Chanler I have not seen since 
that Directors' Meeting about the middle of December, 1896. 

So much for the veracity of the three Petitioners Messrs. Winthrop 
A. Chanler, Lewis S. Chanler and • . 

Now let us examine that of the two "Medical Examiners in Lu- 
nacy" namely: Dr. Moses Allen Starr (for our friend the Oculist turns 
out to be an Examiner in Lunacy) and Dr. E. F. If you turn to page 5 
of the Commitment Papers, you will see under the caption "Certificate 
of Lunacy" and on line 200 "Patient resides at Hotel Kensington, New 
York, County of New York;" and now turn to page 7 of the Commit- 
ment Papers and on lines 275, 276 and 279, you will find^ "that the 
facts stated and information contained in this Certificate are true to 
the best of my knowledge and belief;" then follow the signatures of 
M. Allen Starr, M. D. and E. F., M. D. and then line 279: "severally 
subscribed and sworn to." Doctors M. Allen Starr and E. F. therefore, 
swore that to the best of their knowledge and belief I resided at the 
Hotel Kensington, New York, notwithstanding the fact that my said 

brothers and , the said Petitioners, swore of their own 

knowledge that my residence was in Virginia — their words were cf., 
lines 141 and 142, "Mr. J. A. Chaloner has for several months while 
at his home in Virginia" — and also notwithstanding the fact that Dr. 
E. F. found me at my "home in Virginia" when he presented himself 
there in company with Mr. Stanford White last February; and Dr. M. 
Allen Starr was aware of the said visit, on the part of Dr. E. F. to 
my "home in Virginia:" said visit having been touched on before Dr. 
M. Allen Starr in my presence. There could, therefore, have been no 


possible doubt in either Dr. E. F.'s or Dr. M. Allen Starr's mind about 
my residence being in Virginia. On top of their knowledge as above 
described, and on top of the corroboration of it in Trow's Directory 
(which they probably consulted, for touching my occupation they say 
on line 202 "occupation Lawyer") which gives my residence Virginia, 
on top of, and in spite of, all this, both Dr. M. Allen Starr and Dr. E. 
F, swore that to the best of their knowledge and belief I reside at the 
Hotel Kensington. This looks to me like perjury. How does it strike 

At all events it is so remarkable a divergence, as sworn testimony, 
from the sworn testimony, on the same subject, on the part of the 
said Petitioners that it badly needs investigation. 

The remainder of the statements in the Commitment Papers both 
on the part of the said Petitioners, and on that of the said Medical 
Examiners in Lunacy, is on a par with the above instances of false 

On the maxim "False in one thing false in all" it becomes un- 
necessary for me to take up your time to deny the false allegations on 
the part of the said Petitioners and on that of the said Medical Ex- 
aminers in Lunacy, as "they drag their slow length along." 

I shall content myself in making a general denial to all allegations 
which go to show me of unsound mind. 

Such trifling allegations as that I have limited myself to a peculiar 
diet, or that I have secluded myself, or that I burnt my hand (in an 
experiment by the way), I demur to. 

I also demur to the allegation that I frequently went into a 
"trance-like state." This was done in the presence of Drs. Moses Allen 
Starr and E. F. and at their request in order that they might note 
the action of a trance-like state. Their request to me was based on 
purely scientific grounds and I granted it on the same grounds. There 
was never any question of Medical advice. Drs. El. F. and Moses Allen 
Starr each pretended interest in the trance-like states, and Dr. Moses 
Allen Starr pretended to some knowledge of same. 

You will remember that I said that I had for some years been 
carrying on investigations in Esoteric Buddhism. The said trance- 
like state is one of the means I from time to time employ to that end. 
As I said before I am not going to bore you with a lecture on Esoteric 
Buddhism, and shall drop the subject with the remark that I have not 
injured myself nor anybody else by my said investigations. , 

To all allegations to the effect, or tending thereto in the remotest 
degree, that I have a delusion or delusions of any kind or description 
I make an unequivocal denial. 

The allegations that I have exposed myself to cold, neglected or 
injured myself, I unequivocally deny. 

The allegation that I threaten people I unequivocally deny. 

The allegation that I was emaciating I unequivocally deny. 

The allegation that I was confined in an Institution for the Insane 

in New Paris, BVance, I nneqniTocally deny. Xe^r Paris" ' is a remark- 
ablv ignorant clerical error. 

I uneiriiTocally deny each of the following allegations which for 
brevity I shall designate hy the numbered line they fall on. Namely. 
Line 142 from the word "Been" to "Manner;" line 144 from the words 
"he has" to the end of line 150, inclnslve; line 187 to line 191, inclusive. 
Lone 205 to line 212, inclusive. Line 215 and line 216, with the excep- 
tion of "is armed": the very natural fact that I had a revolver in my 
room, which I always travel wirTi. was twisted until it was distorted 
in:: is armed." Line 21 S ani /Izr .1 l^:r.r -44 ::» line 249, inclusive, 
exjT't that I maintain :':ii: ii t ; Li r :':i^".±Ti from brown to gray. 
Line 252 to line 2*:.i ir.:^-: t e:: tI: '.:.:-.' I :: -uently went into a 
:rin -l:^^ 5:a:e a: :i:e r ifs: :: Irs :::5r5 Itt. 5:arr and E. F. 
in:: 'l:..: I =:niT::=iTS ::il:^i FttL I - ItI. in ".'^r ::iiice-like state. 
LinT -:- :: In^ if- :n::.5:"^T Liiirs i r i" -"1 Line 273 and line 
-7-. Tiie "'I'-T- ii. :: -5:::i. irniei :g me in niv :ell riie foregoing alle- 
gation in '-T : . rinr inelegant but explicit language to-~i:. I didn't 
des :ni:i n: r: i ? it t ::n:rn: of no delusion f:r I filn : se- none." 
I iTni:n- -: n:iT -'- "-i:;I s^:";; "He has becomr svs: ::::::; :: iriends, 
nsE ;t i iiTi iiimEei: :n :nT i^round that I sh: — ri :tt1 :n = :in:t in 
s::5:e::iLr ni :riTni5 ii" irirnds so called — faniil :-.z.-L riTzis — ran 
n:^ in iiere r^ii I t m m:r snsrijioi;^ of friends I si:: :i: ::: e 

I :nini: :i:eL you will agree with me :ha: the frequently occurring 
^cni ine in :Le foregoing paragrains sn lid read 'lie." 

S: m::i: ::r ne allegations of the s if Petitioners and said Medi- 
ei Z:?,minTrs i" l:n:::y against my Its::: Now let us see how far 
:n- iiie±rni;ns :: :i:T I-I-noraJble Henry A i-iiersleeve. Justice of the 
S:::rrme T :::: :: :i- S ::- of Xew York, that I am a maniac, with 
s: :i:i :^s Tii es ::n:i ::i?-l tendencies — the only conclusion to be 
i::nn :: :m i: :s :^ii-e?:i -; — remem :: :_: s:-id Honorable Justice has 
z 7 ien : - n : i:: 1" :: i:T 1 i i : Insive, and line 345 and 
i:n^ i^ — i: : = : : ::: s:^ii :i i: : :- have been borne out by 
thr :: s h: h h - :-:s :::: si: : ntrst March 13th. 

I meie n: ::: :n :: h^ ? :i: t ~m: arrested me at the Hotel 
Kensington and :: - :: nr h::T I gave them cigars and we smoked 
and chatted arnica;!; t:i :h : :n the way here. 

During the four mon:hs :h?n I have been imprisoned here I have 
not eomnii::sil a sinrie act vrnich in the remotest degree resembled 
either vioUn s :: insnity. I have threatened nobody during that 
time. I have ire^uently warned the authorities here that I would seek 
legal redress for th-^ false imprisonment that I was tmdergoing. and 
that I won: n: i-i'y responsible for their share in i:. 

The ab«: . . c:^;cmcni is borne out by each of my keepers — one i3 
on duty with me when the other is off duty — one of whom has been 
eleven years a keeper in Insane Asylums and the other has been three 
years in this Institution. Their duty is to sleep in my cell and be 


with me and watch me when I am awake, and report daily to the Au- 
thorities here all that I do or say of any nature whatever. These 
reports are then taken down in writing by the Authorities and are 
known as "charts." It is on these "charts" that the progress or retro- 
gression of a "patient's" condition is based. The Authorities— the 
doctors i. e. — may see the "patient" for five or ten minutes each day, 
the keeper sees the patient fifteen hours out of the twenty-four. It is 
in fact the keepers, who are expert trained nurses, and not the doctors 
who understand the most about the character, habits, and mind of the 
patient, in the ratio of fifteen hours to ten minutes per day of diagnosis 
and attention. Neither of my keepers has ever seen me do or heard 
me say anything which was in the least irrational or unbalanced. 
Each of them considers me as sane as any man and they are v/illing 
to so testify. 

Why do the doctors here not discharge me as sane? Why did 
they not discharge me as sane after a week or two of observation? 
Because the duty of the doctors in the pay of this Private Insane 
Asj'lum appears to be to hold anybody placed here, whether sane or 
otherwise, long enough for the owners of this Asylum to make a good 
profit out of him — or her. Times are hard. It is not every day in the 
week that the proprietors of this Asylum can capture a prisoner who 
can be made to pay $100 (one hundred dollars) a week ransom until 
released. As j^ou see by the statement on the cover of the Commit- 
ment Papers that is the exorbitant sum I am forced to pay in exchange 
for a two-roomed cell, a keeper — whose salary is not over thirty dollars 
a month with board and lodging — and baked potatoes. There is no 
reduction here; I am forced to pay for what I don't want, whether I 
reject it or otherwise. 

You can readily grasp the threads of this daring conspiracy from 
your intimate knowledge of the ways of criminals, gathered from your 
long and successful pursuit of them as Commonwealth's Attorney. 

It is not necessary therefore for me to point them out to you. 

Let it suffice to say that the ground work of the Commitment 
Paper is an amalgam of avarice, malice, and mendacity. 

That the only truthful statements in the Commitment Papers are 
such as in no wise reflect on my reason or sauitj'. That I was accused 
by persons who were not in a position to know whereof they — not 
merely spoke but — duly swore. That these said accusers — the said 
Petitioners — were all and severally on bad terms with me, and had 
been so for years. That it was to the unmistakable business interests 
of two of the said accusers Messrs. Winthrop Astor Chanler and Lewis 
Stuyvesant Chanler that I should be disfranchised, as an insane person, 
of my property as well as of my liberty. 

That having had a sharp alteration with Dr. E. F. for bring- 
ing Dr. Moses Allen Starr into my rooms without warning or per- 
mission, to spy on me in company with himself as the result proved, 
which altercation was the basis for a second one Y\-lth Dr. Moses 


Allen Starr on the general topic of the morality of the Medical pro- 
fession: in the discussion of which topic I showed such unexpected 
knowledge of the habits of many members of the Medical profession 
that Dr. Moses Allen Starr, after vainly endeavoring to discover the 
source of my information, earnestly requested me to change the sub- 
ject: that having had, as I say, a distinct altercation with each of 
the said doctors — who later were metamorphosed into the said Medical 
Examiners in Lunacy — the motive of the said followers of the Healing 
Art, in wishing to see their late antagonist declared a maniac, is not 
far to seek. I might say that I have not the faintest tinge of prejudice 
against surgeons as well as such physicians as are both skillful and 
honest. That there are numtDers of physicians who are neither one 
nor the other it has been my fortune to discover. The proof of the 
above lack of prejudice against physicians is, that I have spent money 
in giving aid to deserving Medical students to complete their aduca- 

The motive which led the Honorable Henry A. Gildersleeve, 
Justice of the Supreme Court of the State of New York to overlook the 
grave discrepancy displayed in the Commitment Papers in the spec- 
tacle afforded by two conflicting sworn statements on the same sub- 
ject — namely, the sworn statement of the said Petitioners as to my 
home's being in Virginia followed by the sworn statement of the said 
Medical Examiners in Lunacy as to my home's being in Hotel Kensing- 
ton, New York — the motive which led the Honorable Justice to permit 
the said spectacle to pass unchallenged, I shall leave you to surmise. 
This Institution is very rich. 

The motive which led the said Honorable Justice to dispense with 
"personal service" on a merely ex parte statement, I shall leave you to 

The motive which led the said Honorable Justice to omit to direct 
"substituted service" — clearly the alternative, when personal service is 
dispensed with, as implied by the law which reads: "the judge to 
whom the application (for Commitment to an Insane Asylum) is to 
be made, may dispense with such personal service, or may direct sub- 
tituted service to be made upon some person to be designated by him." 
Cf. printed cover of the Commitment Papers containing the said law 
lines 53 to 55: the motive which led the said Honorable Justice to 
the above omission I shall leave you to surmise. 

You will note, on studying the extracts from Chapter 545 of the 
laws of 1896 — given on the cover of the Commitment Papers — the 
tcrtuousness thereof. For instance take Section 62. The said section 
contradicts itself. It says line 49 and line 50: "notice of such applica- 
tion (for Commitment to an Insane Asylum) shall be served person- 
ally, at least one day before making such application upon the person 
alleged to be insane." 

That is no more than fair — is it? Somebody takes it into his — 
or her — head or pretends to take the notion into his — or her — head. 


for certain reasons, that you are crazy. It seems fair that you should be 
allo"?s-ed to confront your accuser — a common murderer has that privi- 
lege — and be heard in defence to his — or her — allegations, before being 
summarily arrested like a malefactor, as I have been and put behind 
bars without a trial for an indefinite period, perchance for life. Well 
the above unwholesome specimen of boasted Anglo-Saxon justice, law, 
freedom, etc., is at once wiped out and rendered utterly nugatory by 
what follows on lines 53 to 55, inclusive. After the above bold bluff at 
justice — after saying "notice of such application (for Commitment to 
an Insane Asylum) shall be served personally, at least one day before 
making such application, upon the person alleged to be insane" — the 
law dodges justice and sneaks out at the following carefully prepared 
loophole line 53 to line 55, inclusive: 'the judge to whom the (said) 
application is to be made may dispense with such personal service." 
The judge has it all his own way. Get at the right judge and it's plain 
sailing. There are two explanations of the above law. One, that it is 
the outcome of manipulated legislation at Albany by Corporations 
dealing in bogus maniacs, who wish to legislate in order to continue 
the said monopoly in maniacs, which the laws of the State of New 
York at present foster and support. 

The other explanation, for the above iniquitous law's smirching 
the Statute Books of the "Empire State," is that it is the product of 
the late Republican Legislature. 

In other words a citizen of the State of New York can be con- 
demned, and imprisoned without a hearing. All that is required to 
deprive a citizen of the "Empire State" of his liberty, is, one or two 
false witnesses, two dishonest doctors, and a judge who can swallow 
onflicting sworn statements without a qualm. No defence is allowed 
to the accused. 

This is truly the "Empire State." I sometimes wonder, as I 
look through the bars of my cell, how such things can be, outside the 
Russian Empire State. 

Fortunately for myself, however, I am no longer a citizen of the 
"Empire State," but am and have been since 1895 a citizen of the 
Sovereign State of Virginia; Vv^hich title to sovereignty I propose to 
see Virginia make good by rescuing me, recapturing me as it were 
from the neighboring and supposedly friendly State of New York, by 
calling on the arm of the Federal courts. 

An interesting question this, and one in which it may be shown, 
that the Doctrine of State's Rights rests for support upon Centraliza- 
tion, and that when one sovereign State steal the citizen of another 
sovereign State, and thereby the money accruing from his personal 
taxes, the robbed State may call upon the common residuary of all 
extraneous sovereign rights, the central government, to demand resti- 
tution from the robber State. 

So much for the equity surrounding my present predicament. 

Now let us glance at the law. You will readily comprehend with 


what meagre means towards forming an opinion I am at present sur- 

The sum total of my law library consists of the Constitution of 
the United States, in the back of a dictionary, and selections from a 
list of legal maxims in the same book. The Constitution of the United 
States says Article III. Section 2: "The judicial power (of the Federal 
Courts) shall extend to controversies between citizens of another State 
to controversies between citizens of different States." I am a citizen 
of Virginia. Should I have a controversy with the State of New 
York, the controversy being between a State and a citizen of another 
State, the Federal courts could alone have jurisdiction over the contro- 

The question of a man's sanity, covering as it does his liberty, and 
his property, is surely a controversy of the first importance. 

I therefore — having had my sanity attacked by a State court (the 
Supreme Court of the State of New York), have a controversy with 
the State of New York. Said controversy must be tried, therefore, in 
the Federal Courts. 

Furthermore, I have had my sanity attacked by Drs. Moses Allen 
Starr and E. F. They being citizens of the State of New York, and 
I being a citizen of Virginia said controversy must be tried, therefore, 
in the Federal courts. 

Furthermore, I have had my sanity attacked by Messrs. Winthrop 

Astor Chanler, Lewis Stuyvesant Chanler and . I 

being a citizen of the State of Virginia and they, the Messrs. Winthrop 
Astor Chanler and Lewis Stuyvesant Chanler being citizens of the 

State of New York, and being a citizen of the 

State of Massachusetts, said controversy must be tried, therefore, in 
the Federal courts. 

Furthermore, I have been restrained of my liberty by "The Society 
of The New York Hospital," the legal title of the corporation which 
owns the Asylum in which I am at present confined. 

The said corporation being a New York concern, and I being a 
citizen of Virginia said controversy must be tried, therefore, in the 
Federal courts. 

The above actions are for the future. For the present all I ask 
is liberty. 

It isi not necessary for me to tell you had to proceed to attain 
that end. I will only caution you in closing not to write nor telegraph 
me, nor mention me to a living soul, save Senator Daniel (to whom 
of course you will show this letter) anything connected with me or 
my whereabouts. It has been given out by certain interested parties 
that I am in Europe (I find that that is the stock term used when a 
man is sent here). Let it be so considered as long as possible. 

Speed is essential, for I have been given to understand, that, when 
my unknown term of imprisonment here is ended, I am to be shipped 
to Europe. As to what point I was not informed; most probably to 


an English private Insane Asylum. That would probably do the busi- 
ness for me, as there they are even more brutal in their treatment of 
patients than here. 

Above all I warn you and Senator Daniel to be on your guard 
agiainst all the doctors here. For they are all of them as smooth 
spoken and deceptive in their manner as any set of confidence men 
yoii ever encountered. 

The name of the Superintendent is Dr. Samuel B. Lyon, the 
Asylum is commonly called "Bloomingdale" but that is merely a 
fancy name. Its legal title is "The Society of The New York Hospital," 
a private corporation having its offices and Hospital on 15th St., a few 
doors west of Fifth Avenue, New York. 

As you may gather from my letter I mean war. 

No compromise with any man, or institution, which has been in 
the remotest degree connected w^ith this rascally conspiracy. 

Listen to nobody who endorses what has been done. 

The more friendship such a man professes for me, the more pro- 
found shoula be your distrust for him. 

The manner of proceeding to procure the writ of habeas corpus I 
leave entirely in Senator Daniel's and your hands. 

Speed and secrecy are the watch-words. The moment it leaked 
out that any effort was being made for my release, that moment would 
probably end my imprisonment here and begin it in a closed carriage, 
on my way by night bound and gagged to Long Island Sound — eight 
miles off — where a private tug boat would convey me to an ocean 
Steamer at New York, or a sailing vessel bound around "the Horn." 
I can assure you that outlawed as I am, my position is one of con- 
siderable uncertainty — not to say danger. 

It is unnecessary for me to say that nothing but the most unex- 
pected and dire necessity could induce me to go before a sheriff's jury, 
the usual manner in the State of New York of carrying out a habeas 
corpus proceedings for a man who has been declared insane by a judge. 
I object to this for three reasons. 

First: Because it is not the right way to go about it. I am not 
a citizen of the State of New York and therefore the sheriff's jury 
does not apply to my case. 

Second: Because I do not desire the notoriety consequent thereon. 

Third: Because my family are most anxious that I should go be- 
fore a sheriff's jury, in the desperate hope that the said jury would 
believe what they, and the doctors said about me. In which case the 
jury would pronounce me insane, and hand me over to the custody of 
my family, who could then apply for and receive into their hands my 
property and the management thereof under the name of a commission. 

The above line of action (going before the sheriff's jury) has 
already been suggested to me by an emissary of my family, who told 
me that that was the only way for me to get out — hoping thereby 
that I w^ould choose it. 


The best way, it seems to me, would be to have Senator Daniel 
and yourself go before the Attorney General in Washington, and have 
him issue an order to tne United States Districi Attorney in New 
York City, to go before a Federal judge in New York City with Senator 
Daniel and yourself, and procure from said Federal judge a writ of 
habeas corpus, on the double ground that I am not insane — show por- 
tions of this letter to the judge as proof of my sanity, on the maxim 
"To write is to act, ' if I write sanely I act sanely — and that if I 
were insane the actions hould have been begun in a Federal and not 
in a Siaie court, owing to my being a citizen of Virginia, and not of 
New York, and that my Commitment by a State Court is therefore 
illegal and must be set aside. 

I merely mention this, with the full knowledge of its being — owing 
to the circumstances — a horse-back opinion. 

I don't dwell on the irregularity of the commitment — the conflict- 
ing sworn statements — the suggestions of fraud — the fact that the 
name of the institution, in which I am. is therein given as "Blooming- 
dale Asylum/' whereas the Commitment Papers distinctly state under 
it, on line 156: "it is essential that the official title of the institution 
should be correctly inserted,*" and whereas the official title of said in- 
stitution is not ''Blooniingdale Asylum," but ""The Society of The New 
Y'ork Hospital." The same irregnlarity is repeated on the cover of 
the Commitment Papers, where the title of the said institution is 
again given as "'Bloomtugdale Asylum."' These, with the rest of the 
legal aspects of the case, I leave entirely in Senator Daniel's and your 
experienced hands. 

If necessary, let a Federal judge examine into my sanity for a 
change. Examination at the hands of a disiinguishei and honest man 
is the last thing that I would avoid. 

If necessary, let us begin de novo, only in a legal, equitable, and 
honest manner. No more dishonest doctors, no more Star Chamber 
judges, no more summary arrests. We are not in Cuba nor. as yet, 
in the State of New York does martial law prevail. 

As I am allowed no money — I haven't seen a dollar bill in 
months — and as I am not allowed to communicate with my New York 
office, I am unable to send you and Senator Daniel cheques for re- 
tainers and disbursements. So I must ask you to explain the situation 
to the Senator and tell him that I must ask him to charge aU travel- 
ing expenses and disbursements to my account until I am li'oerated. 

The same I request of you. 1 hope before many days to see Sena- 
tor Daniel a.nd yourself enter the door of my cell, accompanied by an 
officer bearing a writ of habeas corpus from a Federal court. 

Faithfully yours. 


P. S. — Please bring this letter with you as a resume of my case. 

J. A. C. 



State of Virginia, 
County of Albemarle, 

I, Micajah Woods, Commonwealth's Attorney for Albemarle County, 
Virginia, being duly sworn depose and say that I received the appended 
letter addressed to me, under date July 3, 1897, in October, 1897, that 
the said letter is in the handwriting of John Armstrong Chaloner and 
signed by John Armstrong Chaloner. 

&worn to before me this 12th day of July, 1905. 

Notary Public for the County of Albemarle, in the State of Virginia. 
John W. Fishburne, Notary Public, 

Albemarle County, Virginia. 
My term of office expires September 19th, 1906. 

County of Albemarle, 
State of Virginia, 
to wit: 

I, W. L. Maupin, Clerk of the Circuit Court of the County of Albe- 
marle in the State of Virginia, the same being a Court of Record, do 
certify that John W. Fishburne, whose genuine signature is affixed 
to the foregoing and annexed certificate was at the time of signing the 
same a Notary Public in and for the County and State aforesaid duly 
commissioned and qualified according to law and authorized to take 
proof and acknowledgment of Deeds and other instruments of writing. 

In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and affixed the 
seal of said Court this 12th day of July, 1905. 



(Seal of Virginia.) 

His commission expires 19th day of Sept., 1906. 


PAGE 36. 

Upon plaintiff's arrest and incarceration upon the said false charge 
of lunacy March 13, 1897, in The Society of The New York Hospital, 
falsely called "Bloomingdale," at White Plains, Westchester county. 
New York, plaintiff at once attempted to procure counsel for his trial 
in open court. In all said attempts plaintiff was foiled from the fact 


that he was a prisoner under the strictest surveillance. Finally, on 
or about the 13th of October, 1897, plaintiff did manage to get a letter 
out without the knowledge of the hospital authorities. Said letter 
was to a lawyer in Virginia requesting him to employ another lawyer 
and together to institute habeas corpus proceedings for plaintiff's 
release. For the reason that on the old adage, "give a dog a bad name 
and hang him," said lawyer was like all other lawyers whom plaintiff 
wrote to from White Plains with the said view. Said lawyer felt 
doubtful about taking the case of a man declared insane by relatives. 
The consequence was that said lawyer did nothing in said matter 
beyond writing plaintiff a very friendly letter by the same party who 
had conveyed plaintiff's said letter to said lawyer. Plaintiff therefore 
resigned himself to an apparently desperate situation, waiting for 
something of which he might avail himself to turn up. Plaintiff thus 
waited for nearly two years from the time he wrote said letter, which 
was on July 3, 1897, for he had to wait from July to October for an 
opportunity to get said letter out without the knowledge of the hos- 
pital authorities. In the early summer of 1899 plaintiff put in a 
request to the Superintendent of The Society of The New York Hos- 
pital, at White Plains, for permission to walk outside of the asylum 
grounds unaccompanied by a keeper as heretofore. Plaintiff's conduct 
had, during the more than two years of his stay at White Plains, been 
so exemplary and docile that the said Superintendent granted plain- 
tiff's* said request. At this time plaintiff was suffering from a nervous 
affection of the spine, brought on by the fearful nervous strain 
of his surroundings reinforced by the fearful nervous strain of 
waiting, w^ithout hope of help from without, in a mad-house cell for 
over two years. Plaintiff had been confined to his bed by said com- 
plaint for weeks at a time. Upon receiving permission to walk out 
alone plaintiff attempted to do so, but after a few such attempts his 
said nervous affection of the spine returned with increased force, 
which again put plaintiff upon his back. There plaintiff remained 
for some months. At the end of said time plaintiff once more resumed 
his said walks. Plaintiff was very careful not to overexert himself in 
his precarious condition of health, and for some months limited his 
walks to a little over a mile per day. Gradually plaintiff's health im- 
proved, and gradually he extended the distance of his daily walks, until 
by January, 1900, plaintiff was able without fatigue to do twelve miles 
on foot in three hours. Plaintiff thereupon prepared to carry out a 
plan he had had in mind when he put in his said application for permis- 
sion to walk out alone. Said plan was to choose a post office as far 
away from White Plains as possible, but not too far to admit of his 
walking there and back inside of three hours. Plaintiff selected a 
post office six miles off, and also at the same time selected an alias, 
under which to receive his mail without a probability of any of the 
said hospital peoples' finding out that plaintiff was breaking one of 
the most rigidly enforced rules of said asylum, to-wit, that no letters. 


telegrams, or telephone messages may go out without having been first 
read and approved by the said hospital authorities. In January, 1900, 
plaintiff wrote to the said Virginia lawyer, explaining the situation 
and that all replies should be addressed to plaintiff under said alias 
at said post office. To said letter plaintiff got no reply. Plaintitf 
waited until the latter part of February, 1900, when he again wrote 
to said Virginia lawyer. To said letter said lawyer replied under date 
of March 20, 1900, in a most friendly manner, saying, among other 
things. "It is certain that some prominent friend of yours in New 
York could serve you more efficiently than I could, as I am a stranger 
to the people there and not familiar with the New York procedure In 

such cases. I w^ould suggest that you communicate v.ith ; 

he is an old friend of yours, on the ground, and familiar with the 
influences that would have to be exercised to restore you to liberty, 
and the exercise of your rights." 

To said letter plaintiff replied under date of March 2^, 1900, of 
which the following is an excerpt, to-wit. "Yours of March 20th to 
hand. I am very much obliged to you for replying to my previous 
note so promptly. I fully comprehend the difficulties surrounding your 
position. The gentleman you suggested that I should employ in my 
case is unavailable. I have, however, other lawyers in view. I had 
just written one of them in relation to my case and made an appoint- 
ment for our meeting secretly. You will readily understand the im- 
portance to me, and my case, of my letter to you dated July 3, 1897, 
and its enclosures, to-wit: a certified copy of my Commitment Papers, 

and a page from I have a rough pencil copy of said 

letter, but it is not in shape for ready reference or easy legible read- 
ing. As this letter contains a complete and exhaustive history of my 
case, written when the events were fresh in my mind you will easily 
see its importance to me in giving a complete succinct recital of the 
events which led to my arrest, and what followed, to my lawyers. I 
therefore enclose a special delivery stamp, which is almost as sure as 
a register stamp, to ensure the safe arrival of the aforesaid documents, 
which are of vital importance to myself." 

To said letter said lawyer replied under date of March 30, 1900: 
*'My Dear Friend, — Yours received. I have mailed to you this morn- 
ing the documents you wished. The paper you wrote is clear, strong, 
and logical, and would be of immense service to your friends and 
attorneys in New York. I do earnestly hope your efforts to secure 
relief will be successful. You must let me know^ the progress you 
make in this line, and advise me of the name or names of your New 
York attorneys and at the proper time, if I can possibly leave here, I 
will go on ^nd confer and co-operate with them." 

This was the last plaintiff heard from said Virginia lawyer. The 
latter part of March, 1900, plaintiff wrote to a New York City lawyer 
proposing to engage him in plaint iff's case in co-operation with a 
second New York lawyer of great prominence. Plaintiff also enclosea 


In his letter to said first New York lawyer plaintiff's long letter to 
said Virginia lawyer (dated July 3, 1897), and the certified copy of 
the Commitment Papers. Said first New York lawyer replied to 
plaintiff's said letter as follows, under date of April 7, 1900: "Long 
letter and papers received. The matter is receiving attention, and I 
will let you hear from me as soon as possible." 

Plaintiff waited until May 12, 1900, without hearing anything 
further from said first New York lawyer. On that date plaintiff wrote 
a polite note to said first New York lawyer to the effect that, if for 
any reason, said second New York lawyer was unable or unwilling to 
co-operate with said first New York lawyer on plaintiff's case, that in 
that event said first New York lawyer was to get the "long letter and 
papers" from said second New York lawyer and offer the case to a 
third prominent New York lawyer. To said letter said first New, 
York lawyer replied under date of May 14, 1900, as follows, to-wit: 
"Yours of May 12 just received, and I must apologize for keeping you 
in suspense, but for the past week I have been under the weather and 
have been unable to attend to anything. But your affairs have not 
been forgotten, and I am doing exactly what you asked m© to do. I 

have had a long talk with (said second New York lawyer) 

and he now has your papers, and has had them for some time. He is 
a very busy man, and he promised me he would give this matter his 
most careful attention. I will do my best to have an interview with 
him this week, and will write you immediately." 

This said note was the last plaintiff ever got from said first New 
York lawyer. After waiting in vain till the latter part of May, 1900, 
to hear from said first New York lawyer plaintiff wrote on May 24, 
1900, to an old friend of plaintiff's, and also a friend of said second 
New York lawyer. It was in fact, said friend who, years previous, 
had introduced plaintiff to said second New York lawyer at the club. 
Plaintiff only met said second New York lawyer on this occasion. In 
plaintiff's said note to said friend of May 24, 1900, plaintiff proposed 
to said friend to call on said second New York lawyer, and use his 
good offices to get said second New York lawyer to bring plaintiff's 
case to court as quickly as possible. Plaintiff was under the impres- 
sion at that time that said second New York lawyer was at work 
upon his (plaintiff's) case. Since said friend would be in a position 
to assure himself on that matter, one way or the other, plaintiff in 
writing to said friend, May 24, 1900, spoke of said second New York 
lawyer's having taken his case as an accomplished fact. The follow- 
ing note is said friend's reply to plaintiff's aforesaid note, to-wit: "New 
York, May 30, 1900. Your esteemed favor of the 24th ult. was duly re- 
ceived. I cheerfully accept your proposition and shall devote myself to 
its fulfillment as shall best be deemed advisable from time to time, as 
events may be developed. Nothing can be accomplished by undue 
haste — everything by patience and serenity. Those with whom I am 
to confer and advise are fully alive to the situation, rest confident 


upon that. I have never failed you heretofore, and shall not now. 
Be of good cheer, and believe nothing will be neglected toward the 
end in view." Plaintiff naturally inferred from the said note that 
said friend had seen said second New York lawyer, and that said 
second New York lawyer was diligently at work upon plaintiff's case. 
Weeks rolled by and no word came either from said second New 
York lawyer or said friend. Plaintiff then wrote direct to said second 
New York lawyer a brief and polite note asking point blank, but 
politely, whether or not said second New York lawyer was engaged 
upon plaintiff's case. To this note said second New York lawyer made 
no reply whatever. Plaintiff has since learned, upon incontrovertible 
evidence, that said note from plaintiff was duly received by said second 
New York lawyer, however. Plaintiff did not write again to said 
second New York lawyer, nor did plaintiff think it worth v.hile to 
notify said friend of plaintiff's of said note to said second New York 
lawyer. By the middle of October, 1900, plaintiff's patience began to 
wear. Said second New York lawyer kept silent. But since plaintiff 
had said friend on guard, so to speak, watching said second New 
York lawyer, plaintiff, who had perfect faith in the friendship for 
himself on the part of said friend felt sure that, strange as said 
second New York lawyer's silence seemed there was some good reason 
for it. But, as has been said, plaintiff's patience began to wane to- 
wards the end of October, 1900. Plaintiff thereupon wrote to said 
friend and asked him point blank whether or not he knew w^hether 
or not said second New York lawyer had taken plaintiff's case. The 
following extract from said friend's reply lifted a veil from plaintiffs 
eyes. The said extract is all of said friend's said note, which is 
relevant. Said extract, to-wit: "New York, Oct. 2;0, 1900. I do not 

know for a fact whether (said second New York lawyer) 

has, or has not, undertaken your case. I had concluded from your 
letter that he had, and in my conversations with him since that time 
looked upon him as your counsel. For weeks I have not seen that 
gentleman, and all efforts to have a talk wath him in your behalf 
have been fruitless and of no avail." Plaintiff thereupon wrote to said 
friend for further information, said friend's reply to which contains 
the following extract, to-wit: "New York, Wednesday, Oct. 31, 190O. 
Again I have to report that I have not seen or heard from our friend 
(said second New York law^yer). It seems incredible to me. You 
are sure, are you, that you have not written anything he might have 
taken exception to? On that, I take it, he is punctilious to a degree. 
But this is all at random, and as though in a fog." Thereupon plaintiff 
wrote said friend informing him of plaintiff's note to said second 
New York lawyer, before referred to, asking said second New" York 
lawyer point blank, but politely, if said second New York lawyer had 
taken plaintiff's case or not. Plaintiff further asked said friend if 
said second New York lawyer had ever mentioned said note to him. 
To this question the following is an extract from said friend's reply. 


to-wit: "New York, November 4, 1900. At no time did the distin- 
guished counsel (said second New York, lawyer) ever say, or intimate, 
he had received a letter from you. The query was wholly mine, reach- 
ing out through a maze of ignorance to arrive at a conclusion." Plain- 
tiff received one or two more notes from said friend, all showing said 
friend's inability to reach or hear from said second New York lawyer. 
Plaintiff was more than ever convinced of the truth of the said 
adage, "Give a dog a bad name and hang him." However, plaintiff 
decided to make one last effort at getting counsel from New York, 
failing which he determined to escape. Plaintiff therefore wrote to a 
third New York lawyer, whom he had known intimately in the past, 
asking said third New York lawyer to meet him at a point sufficiently 
distant from White Plains to insure said conference being free from 
interruption. Said third New York lawyer promptly responded and 
said conference took place. Said third New York lawyer was as 
friendly as possible; but the upshot of it was that said third New 
York lawyer proved to be about as averse as had the other New York 
lawyers shown themselves to be to taking plaintiff's case. Plaintiff 
thereupon decided to escape next day, and, after borrowing ten dollars 
from said third New York lawyer, did so. 



Plaintiff's Attorneys, Sept. 20, 1901. 

The appearance at Louisa Court House, Virginia, to-day of at- 
torneys in a civil proceeding in behalf of Mr. John Armstrong Chal- 
oner, with reference to certain property in that County in which he is 
interested, being likely to revive or to originate sensational newspaper 
stories about him, his attorneys, w^ho are Senator Daniel and his law- 
partner, Mr. Frederick W. Harper, of Lynchburg, (Virginia), Hon. 
Micajah Wdoos, Commonwealth's Attorney for Albemarle County, of 
Charlottesville (Virginia), Hon. Armistead C. Gordon, City Attorney, 
of Staunton (Virginia), and Hon. Augustus VanWyck, of New York, 
have deemed it advisable, with Mr. Chaloner's approval, to give to 
the press the following statement: — 

On the 13th day of March, 1897, Mr. Chaloner, then a citizen of 
Albemarle County, Virginia, visiting in New York City, was committed 
to "Bloomingdale Asylum" at White Plains, N. Y., on an order of a 
judge of the Supreme Court of New York. On Thanksgiving Eve 1900, 
after numerous fruitless efforts to secure legal counsel, having man- 
aged to borrow from a friend a few dollars, he escaped from the 
Asylum, and went to Philadelphia. There, under the guise of an 
attorney representing a client, he submitted his case to a distinguished 


neurologist, and upon the latter's expressions of willingness to assume 
charge of his alleged client, disclosed his identity. In oider to afford 
the neurologist ample time and opportunity for observation, Mr. Chal- 
oner, of his own motion and without compulsion, repaired to a private 
sanitarium in Philadelphia, under the charge of this doctor, and re- 
mained under his personal supervision there for six months. During 
this time a number of eminent alienists, neurologists and psychologists 
were called in consultation and the records of the proceedings in 
Louisa County disclose the unanimous opinion of all these experts as 
to Mr. Chaloner's sanity. 

Later, having placed himself in touch with his counsel by corres- 
pondence, he came to Virginia and lived at Lynchburg up to a short 
time ago, when he returned to his home County of Albemarle where 
he now is, and where proceedings have been instituted under the Vir- 
ginia statutes to demonstrate before a Court of competent jurisdiction, 
and in an affirmative manner, his entire sanity. 

Mr. Chaloner, who since his escape from "Bloomingdale" has been 
believed by many persons to be dead, [See Police description of plain- 
tiff. Page 87] and by many others to be living abroad, is the picture of 
vigorous physical health; while his sound mentality is vouched for by 
such eminent scientists as Dr. William James, Professor of Psychology 
at Howard University, Dr. H. C. Wood, Professor of Nervous Diseases 
in the University of Pennsylvania; Professor Joseph Jastrow, head 
of the Psychological Department of the University of Wisconsin and 
President of the American Psychologicai Association; and by other 
prominent alienists and neurologists. 

Mr. Chaloner's commitment and confinement in New York grew 
out of his necessary seclusion of himself for a long period of time in 
the study of Experimental Psychology, a field of science that has re- 
ceived a tremendous impulse of development in the past few years, and 
in which those who are competent to judge, award Mr. Chaloner the 
enconium of having made a very interesting discovery. In a book 
he is about to publish entitled, "The X-Faculty — A Short iStudy in 
Advanced Experimental Psychology," his scientific investigations are 
fully set forth. 

It will doubtless please the many friends of Mr. Chaloner in Vir- 
ginia and elsewhere to know of his sound condition of mind and body, 
which is vouched for, as disclosed to them by personal contact and 
through frequent correspondence during recent months, by all of his 

(Signed) Daniel & Harper, 
MicAjAH Woods, 
Armistead C. Cordon, 




We shall lastly introduce five letters corroborative of plaintiff's 
statement in said letter to said Micajah Woods under date July 3, 1897. 
to the effect that there had been bad blood between plaintiff and plain- 
tiff's said family (brothers and sisters) for years, and that the line 
of demarcation had been drawn in 1888, etc. etc. 


Barrytown, N. Y., June 23rd, 1888. 
(To John Armstrong Chaloner.) 

Dearest Brog: — Many thanks for your delightful letter flowing 
with metaphorical milk and honey. 

I am so glad you are so happy, dear old boy, and that you find 
the dreadful marriage state not such a bugbear after all. I congratu- 
late you with all my heart on your winning such a fair and noble 
prize in the life race, seeing how richly you deserve all happiness 
that may come to you. Now I am going to speak quite frankly about 
SL matter which has been exercising us all a good deal, and whose 
nature you seem entirely unconscious of. Far be it from me to throw 
the slightest cloud across your sunshine, though in the present state 
of the thermometer a cloud would be rather a grateful change for the 
heat is oppressive, but I don't think you realize in the least how 
very keenly we all felt your treating us as if we were mere outsiders 
to be classed with reporters and other noxious aand inquisitive bipeds. 

The news of your marriage was known to hundreds of people 
feefore it reached us. Aunt Caroline Astor was here on Thursday 
afternoon and said: "Well I hear Archie is being married" — We 
naturally poohpoohed the thing as a newspaper story. The next day 
the "Herald,'' ''Times,'' etc., confirmed the flat accompli, not until 
Monday did we get any news from Virginia and in the meantime, as 
it happened, we had a stream of visitors who could none of tnom 
fail to be surprised at our being left so totally in the dark. 

Naturally we felt very much hurt at such neglect, poor Alida has 
cried her eyes out several times feeling that you do not care for her, 
the boys are all vexed and affronted. Wintie and I try to make the 
best of the matter, but for several days we could not trust ourselves 
to speak of it. Your announcement that you will stay in Virginia all 
summer, read aloud at table last night reopened the wound, poor 
Bunch's tears rolled down her cheeks into her strawberries. I think 
you ought to try to come up for a week at least, before the girls sail. 
I assure you the thing is worth the sacrifice. The world which you 
seem to care about a good deal — as who does not has got hold of 
the idea that your family is not overpleased with your marriage, 
nothing as you know could be falser than this, but it is you who have 
given it this impression, it rests with you to efface it. You know 


without any telling you how warm your welcome would be here and 
I think you owe it to yourselves as well as to us, to let us see you 

Think it over well, remember how much weight and stress you 
always lay on duties to your family. I say no more, fearing you take 
me already for a tiresome old lecturer. Please understand that I 
write because I think it is best you should know how the land lies 
about Rokeby, and show you how you may make a difference, I won't 
say for your whole future but certainly for several months of it by 
your present movements, in the whole feeling of the family. Mr. 
Bostwick has just returned from Baltimore, quite worn out with dodg- 
ing question as to why none of the family w^ere present, etc., etc., 
and he told Wintie last night that you ought really to know how the 
farmers and people about here are talking at your not coming up nor 
having had any one down. The only way, you see, to do away w^ith 
all these false impressions is for you to come up here as soon as pos- 

This is not a case for quibbling arguments about insignificant 
"side issues," you have got yourself into this false position and you 
owe it to your wife and her future relations to the family to get 
yourself out of it. Use your own judgment as regards telling Amelia 
about all this, she has had enough worries and should be spared 
a3 much as possible. Give her my love — Wintie joins me and says 
he won't trust himself to talk any more on the subject. Very affec- 


Alida sends love to you both — also give Margaret love from us all. 

(Prom Winthrop Astor Chanler.) 


Barrytown, N. Y., June 19th. 

My x>ear Margaret: — I have been waiting until I could control 
my temper before answering your letter. 

If ever two people deserved a good spanking, those two are Brog 
and you. Of course you were but as putty in his hands, and backed 
him up in his absurd mysteries — but still your own common sense, if 
no other feeling, should have told you that he was quite wrong in 
acting as he did. Now I suppose you are wondering what I am driving 
at. Wait a bit until I tell you a story. 

A detachment of the British Army in India w^as on the march. 
An oflBcer was very anxious to know w^hether the army w^as to halt 
the next day and asked one of the staff officers, who had once been a 
friend of his, about it. "I really do not know the intentions of the 
General" was the reply. Then says the Chronicler, "Returning to his 
tent disgusted w^ith the airs of his former companion he was met by 


his servant with the information that the army was to halt the next 
day. "Where did you learn that?" said the oflBcer "Major M's (the 
staff ofl&cer) washerman tells me." So Major M. could tell his washer- 
man that he might take advantage of the halt to blanch his linen, but 
he could not communicate it to an old friend; although from the situa- 
tion of the army it mattered not, in a military point of view, if the 
fact were known from one end of India to the other." Just read, 
mark, learn, etc., this parable and I think you will see how the cap 
fits. You could write to Mr. Morris and tell him to be sure the "d" 
wasi left out of his name, etc., etc. — and yet you could not send one 
line or word to any member of your family so that we could drink 
the bride's health. As it happened Archie's alleged telegram never 
reached us. 

Alida at "Tranquility" and all of us at "Rokeby" heard it from 
an outsider and the daily papers. Of course Brog, like Sir Andrew 
Aguecheek will have fifty "exquisite reasons" for it all. He always 
has. It won't make much difference now what he says. It is all over 
the country that not a single member of his family knew he was going 
to be married so soon. That don't look well does it? I am glad he is 
where he is so much appreciated for his stock is below par up here. 
I cabled the news to Bess lest she too should hear through the papers. 
Alida wrote me a piteous letter to-day asking for news — ^What news 
can I give her? That you leave Va. in a week? Another little point 
for you and Brog to digest at your leisure is this. The outcome of 
his sublime and famous predilection for mystery is that as your name 
was only in one paper the great majority for whom he poses think 
that no member of his family was present at his wedding. You can 
draw your inferences. 

This is all I am going to say on the subject except that it is use- 
less to tell Amelie anything about it. She has nothing to do with it, 
and need not be made uncomfortable. Yours, 


(From Winthrop Astor Chanler.) 


Barrytown, N. Y., June 22nd, 1888. 

My Dear Margaret: — On our return from Albany to-day, where 
we had dined and spent the night with Mrs. Pruyn, I found your long 

Your reasons for not letting us know are precisely what we all 
supposed them to have been. Of course we all knew perfectly well 
that you wanted to send us word and that Archie would not let you. 
When you say that you did not consider it proper for you to discuss 
the matter with and differ from him we disagree with you entirely. 
It was your business to fight any such proceeding on his part with all 


your might. Particularly so when, you thoroughly realized how w© 
would feel as you say you did. In fact every word in your letter and 
in Brog's to Daisy goes to confirm us in our opinion. The Rives had 
a perfect right to wait till after the wedding before cabling to the Col. 
if they wished. They had plenty of relatives in the house to back 
them up in anything they chose to do^ — if the Herald is to be believed. 
Besides there are a half dozen ways in w^hich Brog could have let us 
know the day before if he had wished. He could have written or 
telegraphed in French. As soon as he had had his interview with 
the Herald reporter he could have sent us w^ord. The w^hole trouble 
is that he apparently looked upon the family in the same light as the 
public — with a strong preference for the public. I am not going to 
discuss the matter any further as regards the disagreeable position 
he has seen fit to put; us all in and its result in the eyes of the world 
of w^hom he seems to stand in such dread. Nor am I going to discuss 
the utter fizzle of his attempt at secrecy. I will simply say that he 
has done the very thing of all others he should have not done under 
the circumstances and that he has hurt the feelings of his entire 
connection on this side of the water in a way that though they may 
say nothing' yet will make them show it for a long time to comxe. In 
the most important epoch of his life he has made a fool of himself and 
hurt his wife in the eyes of the public. You can show him both my 
letters on condition that he does not tell his wife about the contents 
more than is necessary. I wall write to him as soon as I can talk of 
something else. 



P. S. — Remember I w^ant you to show both my letters to Brog. 
You can leave the matter of repetition to his own judgment. 

(From Winthrop Astor Chanler to John Armstrong Chaloner.) 


Barrytown, N. Y., June 21st, 1888. 

Dear Brog: — Just a line from an outsider to disturb the perfect 
bliss of Armida's garden. Ask for and read the two letters I have 
written to Margaret in the name of the Rokebyites and use your own 
judgment about repeating the contents. Love to Armida — We don't 
want any cuttings from the Herald or any other of your friends the 



P. S. — The w^eather here is very warm, 93 in the shade to-day — I 
wonder if you wouldn't find it cool in spite of the thermometer. 


(From Jolin Armstrong Chaloner to Winthrop Aster Chanler.) 

"Castle Hill," 
Albemarle County, Virginia, June 27th, 1S88. 

Dear Wintie: — I have received your note of June 21st, and I shall 
want an apology from you in writing, before anything further can 
pass between us. 


J. A. C. 

Now as regards the corroborating evidence concerning the veracity 
of plaintiff's statements in the above letter to Hon. Micajah Woods 
under date of July 3, 1897. 

We shall lastly introduce a letter written to plaintiff under 
plaintiff's then alias of John Childe while plaintiff was in hiding from 
the New York and Pennsj'lvania police at the said private sanatorium 
in Philadelphia, by the late Hon. James Lindsay Gordon, then one of 
the assistant District Attorneys of New York City where he died, and 
recently — in 1904 — one of the Assistant Corporation Counsel of the 

"District Attorney's Office. 
City & County of New York. 

May 6th, 19^1. 
John Childe, Esq., Phila., Pa. 

My Dear C: — I have your letter of the 5th inst. — but this is the 
first moment I have had to answer it, having been engaged in Court 
all day in the trial of cases. 

I remember very distinctly the meeting to which you refer, of the 
Directors of the R. P. Co.* in your room in the Hotel Kensington in 
December, 1896, and the altercation of a violent character which then 
occurred between you and your brother Mr. W. A. C. (]Mr. "Winthrop 
Astor Chanler) — an altercation which reached the verge of becoming 
a physical one, you rising from the bed in which you had been previ- 
ously lying, and you and he simultaneously approaching each other 
in a threatening manner. I do not after the lapse of so long a time, 
recall that on being appealed to by you, I agreed to the correctness 
of your position. I think it was the next day or the day thereafter 
you showed me a letter from him in which he said, in effect (of 
course I do not recall the language) that he could have no further 
communication with you except in writing or through third parties. 

♦Roanoke Rapids Power Company. 


My recollection is that you sent him a reply to the effect that you 
accepted that situation; anl either in that letter or another one about 
the same time by me, you notified him that you would send a repre- 
sentative to examine the accounts of your Father's estate of which 
he was one of the executors. To the latter proposition he verbally to 
me at once acquiesced. Subsequently at your request I employed an 
expert accountant who examined the books and made a report which 
was either given you or Mr. S. W. who held your powers of attorney. 
I do not now remember which. 

Subsequently to the Kensington Hotel meeting, Mr. W. A. C. resigned 
his presidency and membership on the Directory of the U. I. Co.* and 
you were elected in his place. I was at that meeting elected a Director 
on that Board by proxies of your stock — a position which I some time 

ago resigned, transferring my share of stock to who I believe 

was elected Director in my stead — tho' of this I am not sure. I re- 
signed as it was practically impossible owing to the tremendous pres- 
sure of my official duties to attend to the Directorship of the U. I. I 
have now I think, briefly epitomized the business transactions of that 
particular period so far as I can remember such business transactions. 

In so far as your relations with the members of your family 
(brothers and sisters) were concerned, of course my knowledge was 
derived from you. I was on the most intimate social and business 
footing with you and there were few things you concealed from me. 
You had, on various occasions before the transactions hereinbefore 
referred to, spoken to me about them and that your relations wdth 
them were not friendly. My recollection is that on one or two occa- 
sions I rather argued the matter with you, stating that I thought you 
must be mistaken, but you persisted in the assertion that you knew 
what you were talking about and that you knew that your family 
were unfriendly to you. 

I have written this hurriedly because I desire to have it reach 
you at once, as you seem to desire it as soon as possible. It may be 
proper to add that if your family were unfriendly toward you, of 
which it is not necessary for me to express an opinion, I would natu- 
rally not be the person to whom such unfriendliness would be ex- 
pressed, occupying as I did the intimate relation with you to which 
I have referred. 

With the very kindest regards and best wishes for your good 
health. Faithfully yours, 


I remember being with you when you met Mr. W. A. C.t in the 
station at Jersey City and remember your telling me afterwards that 
you and he had a violent quarrel on the train going South. 

J. L. G." 

♦United Industrial Company. 
tCol. William Astor Chanler. 


A pernsal of the above proves plaintiff's assertion touching the 
aforesaid meeting of the Board of Directors of the Roanoke Rapids 
Po^er Companv at plaintiffs said rooms at said Hotel Kensington, 
IZth Street and 5th Avenue, New York City, in December, 1S96. A 
perusal of the above letter also proves the falsity of the charge that 
plaintiff was insane from November, 1S96, since no Board of Directors 
would think of holding a btisiness meetini^ in the rooms of a dangerous 
maniac such as plaintiff is pictured at said time of said meeting in 
said Commitment Papers as being. A perusal of the above lener also 
proves plaintilFs assertion touching the aforesaid violent altercation 
arisiiig thereat between plaintiff and plaintiff's said brother, M^r. Win- 
Thrcp Asior Chanler; and also that plaintiffs position in said alterca- 
tion - J.S ^ rrf:: one: and also all in said assertions of plaintiff 
touci: 1^ T r ; luent consequences of said altercation to wit, (a) 
F - -~ ; ; -- . =-erTion touching the letter written plaintiff by said 
--" " i-iT-ir:; A£:or Chanler breaking off all social relations with 
I -ir :z: except in writing or through third parties, (b) Plaintiff's 
s^ivi assertion touching plaintiff^s ac-ceptance of the said situation in 
a letter, saying also that plaintiff would send a representative to ex- 
amine the accounts of plaintiff's said Fathers Estate of which said 
^Estate said Air. Winthrop Astor Chanler was one of the Executors; 
and also said Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanlers acceptance of said propo- 
sition, (c) Plaintiff's said assertion touching said Mr. Winthrop 
Astor Chanlers said resignation from the Presidency of, anl zirra- 
bership on the Directory of the said United Indtistrial Companj, < d ) 
PlaintifFs said assertion touching plaintifrs election to the Presidency 
of the said United Industrial Company: together with plal- i: - - ^i- 
tion^ by proxies of plaintiff's stock, of a new Directory in : . r id 
United Industrial Oompany of plaintiff's own choosing. 

A i>emsal of the above letter also proves plaintiff's assertion 
touching the unfriendly relations obtalninr :e:— e^n plaintiff and 
plaintifrs said family (brothers and sisters • ; for although, as Mr. 
Crordon points ont, said Gordon would not be likely — seeing the most 
intimate social and business footing existing between said Gordon 
and plaintiff — to be the person to whom such tmfriendliness would 
be expressed by said family, yet said Gordon admits that plaintiff had, 
on various occasions before the transactions hereinbefore referred to. 
spoken to said Gordon about said family, and that plaintiff had said 
to said Gordon that plaintiffs relations with said famDy. were not 
friendly. It should hardly be nec-essary to state that the correctness 
01 plaintiff's said judgment, regarding the secret and concealed hos- 
tility from public view of plaintiff's said family towards plaintiff is 
pretty effectively proved by a member of said family, said brot^ier of 
plaintiff, said Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler" s said violent altercation, 
which reached the verge of becoming a physic-al one, at said meeting 
of said Directory of said Roanoke Rapids Power Company at plaintiffs 
said rooms at said Hotel Kensington, in December, 1S96. 


The late Hon. James Lindsay Gordon, above referred to, was 
the brother of the Hon. Armistead Churchill Gordon, of Staunton, Vir- 
ginia, now Rector of the Board of Visitors of the University of Vir- 
ginia, and the brilliant and well-known writer of Southern stories in 
the magazines. 

The News and Observer, Raleigh, North Carolina, October 18, 1906. 


Readers of the News and Observer will recall the mysterious sen- 
sation occasioned ten years ago by the incarceration in "Bloomingdale" 
asylum, in Newt York, and the subsequent escape of John Armstrong 
Cha loner, the wealthy Virginian and member of the New York bar. 

For four months the friends of Mr. Chaloner supposed that he 
was away taking a trip for his health. For weeks after his escape 
and return to his State of Virginia nevrspaper speculation was rife as 
to the causes which led up to tue imprisonment. He was subsequently 
declared sane in an action tried in the courts of Virginia, and was 
adjudged competent to manage his own affairs. Beyond the fact that 
he had brought actions against persons, however, the matter has since 
fallen away from public attention and has in many respects remained 
ever since a mystery. 

Mr. Chaloner is especially known in the South by reason of his 
marriage to Amelie Rives, the brilliant Virginia novelist, whose book, 
"The Quick or the Dead," created a national furore at the time of its 
publication, and by reason of the fact that it was through his money 
and initiative largely, and Major T. L. Emry, that the water powder 
at Roanoke Rapids?, in North Carolina, was first developed. 

Through the publication of a book by Mr. Chaloner, which is now 
on the Palmetto Press, of Roanoke Rapids, the News and Observer 
is able to give an exclusive statement of the complete story, as stated 
by Mr. Chaloner of the events leading to his commitment to the asylum, 
the circumstances under which he was arrested in New York and 
railroaded to "Bloomingdale" and the sensational details of his four 
years's stay there as a prisoner) practically ex-communicado from the 
world, from March 13th, 1897, until Thanksgiving day eve, 1900, when 
he effected his escape and successfully eluded the police who were 
searching for him in every large city in response to a general alarm. 

The title of the book is "Four Years Behind the Bars of 'Bloom- 
ingdale' ; or the Bankruptcy of Law in New York." 



As detailed by Mr. Chaloner, he was induced in March, 1897, to 
leave his country place, Merry Mills, in Virginia, and go to New York 
by Stanford White, who was recently killed on the roof of Madison 
Square Garden by Harry Thaw. Mr. Chaloner states that he had had 
much trouble with his family in a social and business way, the first 
on account of his having engaged in psychological studies and in- 
vestigation into Esoteric Buddhism, and the second by reason of his 
having ousted his brother, Winthrop Astor Chanler, from the presi- 
dency of the United Industrial Company of Roanoke Rapids, which 
Mr. Chaloner controlled. He alleges that his incarceration in the 
asylum was brought about by his brother for the reasons stated, and 
for the purpose of gaining control of his property. Referring to the 
visit paid him by Stanford White, to his home in Virginia, Mr. Chal- 
oner declares that he had written Mr. White that he could not see 
him. but that the latter nevertheless appeared at his home in com- 
pany with a physician and invited him to go to New York for "a 
plunge in the Metropolitan whirl." Mr. Chaloner consented and went 
to the Hotel Kensington, where he engaged rooms. 

Later the doctor, whose name is not given, but who is described 
as "E. F.," and Mr. White insisted that Mr. Chaloner should put him- 
self in a trance-like state, an accomplishment he says that he as ac- 
quired as the results of his studies in Esoteric Buddhism. Mr. Chal- 
oner complied, and later the doctor returned with Dr. Moses Allen 
Starr, a famous New York alienist, who was introduced as an oculist 
and, by request of the physician was permitted by Mr. Chaloner to 
examine his eyes. 


After having examined his eyes, Mr. Chaloner states that Dr. Moses 
Starr afterwards came to his room at night, after he had retired, with 
three other men and commanded him to go with him. as resistance 
would be useless. Mr. Chaloner states that he refused to go and "con- 
vinced" Dr. Starr that he did not have force enough with him to 
make him go. The next day there came to the hotel plain-clothes 
policemen with commitment papers, and by them Mr. Chaloner was 
taken to the asylum. 

From the letter written to Captain Woods is taken the following 
description by Mr. Chaloner of his stay in "Bloomingdale" : 

"Before going into the commitment papers. I shall briefly touch 
on my life here for the past four months. I was brought here the 
13th of March. Since that time I have been in solitary confinement 
in a two-roomed cell. A keeper sleeps in one of the rooms of my 
cell, and he is always with me. When I take exercise in the asylum 
grounds the keeper accompanies me. My razors were seized on the 
ground that it was a 'rule of the institution.' The consequences was 
I had to be shaved by the asylum barber, which caused not only in- 


convenience, but hardship, since my beard is thick and my skin is thin, 
and no barber has been able to shave me without causing a violent irri- 
tation of the skin, a condition which is always absent when I shave 

"You must excuse the above apparently trivial incident, but you 
will appreciate the annoyance it is to be shaved by the asylum barber, 
when I tell you that his shaving raised such a rash on my neck that 
I have limited his operations to twice a week, thus giving the inflam- 
mation time to subside — to begin afresh on the next shave. 

"You know, from my having had the pleasure of dining at your 
house, that I am limited to a very abstemious diet, that I am prac- 
tically a vegetarian. 

"You also know that I ride a great deal on horseback. It is, in 
fact, my favorite and only form of outdoor exercise. You can well 
imagine the deleterious effect upon my health resultant from a com- 
bination of bad cooking, poor food and total deprivation of horseback 
exercise. Of the cooking I have simply to say that the asylum cooks 
cannot even bake bread, though they daily attempt it. So that I have 
been forced to buy crackers to avoid the violent indigestion the half- 
baked bread causes me. Of the food I will simply say that it has 
been so bad that I have come down to a daily diet of baked potatoes, 
lettuce, fruit and crackers in order to avoid eating food which is 
either badly cooked, adulterated or decayed. 

"In the meantime I am living in a madhouse. Every 'patient' in 
the building in which I am imprisoned is hopelessly insane. At times 
some of them became violently, homicidally, insane, when, after yells 
and struggles with keepers, and a siege in a straight- jacket, they are 
forcibly removed to another ward. Since my arrival two patients 
tvere removed from this building for having become 'violent,' as they 
call it here. 

"Nothing prevents a patient from becoming homicidally insane at 
any time. In one of such fits of frenzy the lunatic might take it 
into his head to walk into my cell and attack me. The cell-doors. 
are unlocked, and, although there is a keeper on watch on my floor,. 
ho is not always there. To give me warning of the approach of 
prowling maniacs I put a table against my door at night. 

"This will give you an idea of my surroundings. I think that you 
will) agree with me that thej are calculated to drive a man insane. 
When you add to these 'surroundings' the active and sustained efforts 
of the resident doctors to talk me into becoming insane by declaring 
to my face that I am insane, and attempting to argue me into admit- 
Ing that I am ; when you consider this, you will, I think, conclude 
that I have my nerves and will-power under effective control in being 
able to remain sane. 

"So much for my life for the last four months. This is the first 
opportunity which I have had for posting a letter unbeknown to the 
authorities here. The rule is that all letters and telegrams must be 
sent through the authorities here, who have the legal right to suppress 


or forward to 'The Commission in Lunacy' at Albany, who have again 
the legal right to suppress and destroy them. You can readily under- 
stand that I would not send a letter under such conditions. Hence 
my having to wait four m-T'nths to write to you and ask y<'ur ;ud." 


The petitioners upon whose affidavits the c-ommitment papers 
against Mr. Chaloner were secured were Winthrop Astor Chanler, Louis 
Stuyvesant Chanler. and Arthur Astor Carey. The first two named 
were the executors of the estate of Mr. Chaloners father, to which, 
under the terms of the will, he is entitled to an annual income of 
one-eighth of the total income. 

With reference to the will, Mr. Chaloner wrote Captain Woods : 

"At my death vrithout issTie my said share reverts to the estate. 
Should I leave issue my said share would go to said issue. It is 
therefore evidently to the business interests of my family tt;» prevent 
my marrying by locking me up for life in an insane asylum, if possible, 
and if that is not i)os5ible. the next best step towards safeguarding 
their business interests is to throw, if possible, an insurmoimtable 
obstacle in the way of my marrying. No more insurmountable obstacle 
in the way of marriage could be imagined than insanity.*" 

Of marrying again, however, he says: 

■"Granting that I get out of this asylum, the stigma of having 
"been confined in it would stick to me through life. You need not 
necessarily infer that I have any intentions of marrying, only I like 
to retain the privilege of the option.'" 

Other motives alleged are the desire to control the business in- 
terests of Mr. Chaloner. and a spirit of revenge on the part of Win- 
throp Chanler. 


Mr. Chaloner. since his escape, has started proceedings in New 
York against T. T. Sherman, who, by a decree of the c-ourt, has been 
placed in charge of Mr. Chaloners property. He alleges that this Mr. 
T. T. Sherman was paid twenty thousand dollars out of his estate, and 
that the expenses of his stay in ''Bloomingdale'' amounted to twenty 
thousand dollars additional, which has been ••hiiri'-e'l asiiinst hi- 
estate. His purpose in writing the book he dec-lares to be to call the 
attention of a judge to the action of his relatives. 

IS ••bloomixgdale"* a snabe": 

The book goes fully into the methods and workings of "Blooming- 
dale,"' which Mr. Chaloner asserts is not a charitable asylum in any 
sense: but run under the protection of the •"Soc-iety of the New York 
Hospital," and that it rec-eives only sufficient charity patients to avoid 
the payment of taxes. Its purposes, he alleges, is to hold and keep 
tcealthy men. ichose famUies desire to he rid of them. 


The extent to which the horror of his situation had worked upon 
Mr. Cha loner is disclosed in his injunction to Captain Woods in his 
letter : 

"Speed is essential, for I have been given to understand that when 
my unknown term of imprisonment here is ended I am to be shipped 
to Europe. As to what point I was not informed ; most probably to 
an English private insane asylum, 

"Speed and secrecy are the watchwords. The moment it leaked 
out that any effort was being made for my release, that moment would 
probably end my imprisonment here and begin it in a closed carriage, 
on my way by night bound and gagged to Long Island Sound — eight 
miles off — where a private tugboat would 'convey me to an ocean 
steamer at New York, or a sailing vessel bound round 'The Horn.' 
I can assure you that outlawed as I am, my position is one of con- 
siderable uncertainty — not to say danger." 


The book, on account both of its character and its revelations, and 
on account of the social standing of Mr. Chaloner and the sensation 
created when his commitment first became known, will create profound 
interest all over the country. It shows, if its detailed circumstantial 
allegations are to be believed, that the rich in New York -are in more 
danger from the avarice of unscrupulous relatives that the poorest 
man from unjust accusation and the failure of justice. His story is 
fraught with romance and mystery. 


As Stated, Mr. Chaloner, formerly a citizen of Virginia, where he 
still frequently resides at his four hundred-acre estate, "Merry Mills," 
is now a citizen of Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina. He is a mixture 
of distinguished Southern and Dutch ancestry, and his blood ia such 
as to warrant that he will make an unrelenting fight for vrliat he 
conceives to be his rights and against injustice. His paternal grand- 
father, a personal friend of Calhoun, left Charleston, South Carolina, 
where his forbears had steadily resided since about 1710, when they 
first left Wales for the New World, about twenty years before the 
war between the States, came to New York to live, and married into 
the New York branch of the Winthrop family. The first of that 
family to come to this country was John Winthrop, first Governor 
of Massachusetts. This marriage also connected the Chaloners with 
Peter Stuyvesant, the last Dutch Governor of New Amsterdam, now 
New York. In Charleston, the Chanlers had always been members 
of one of the three learned professions — the Church, the Law, or 
Medicine. The author's father married Miss Margaret Astor Ward, 
granddaughter of the late William B. Astor. This connected the 
Chanlers with Mrs. Julia Ward Howe — the author's grand-aunt — and. 
further back, considerably, with General John Armstrong, of the 


Revolution, author of "The Newburgh Addresses," and also, through 
the Wards, with General Marion, of South Carolina, of the Revolution, 
Known as the *' Swamp Fox," and also with General Greene, of the 
Revolution. Lastly, the Marion connection relates the author collat- 
erally — not lineally, for she never married — to no less a personage 
than Charlotte Corday, the slayer of the murderous Marat — General 
Marion's people being French Huguenots. 

For some time, while awaiting the results of litigation, Mr. Chal- 
oner has been residing on his Virginia estate, engaged in literary 

The World, New York, November 11, 19CH3. 



Can a man be sane in one State and insane in another? 

So it would seem. But John Armstrong Chaloner, cousin of the 
Astors, one time chum of the late Stanford White; lawyer, college 
graduate, student of physics and ex-husband of that brilliant woman, 
Amelie Rives, now the Princess Troubetzkoy, is not going to take such 
a decision as final. 

His case comes up in the Federal Courts here in New York. Mr. 
Chaloner, who has a fortune of largely over .$1,000,000, wants to get 
control of it. But the courts of New York say he is insane and not 
competent. His legal residence is in the State of North Carolina. 

And there, as in Virginia, the courts have decided that he is 
perfectly sane and able to manage his estate. 

There are forty-five States in the Union. Mr. Chaloner can visit 
forty-four of them without the slightest danger to his personal liberty. 
But should he set his foot in the sovereign State of New York he will 
promptly be clapped into a lunatic asylum, because he is still held 
to be mentally incompetent. Dr. Lyon, of "Bloomingdale," has testified 
that Mr. Chaloner is a paranoiac. Dr. Austin Flint, Dr. Carlos F. 
McDonald and Dr. Moses A. Starr, have given it as their opinion 
that Mr. Chaloner is hopelessly insane. 

And Dr. J. Madison Taylor, Dr. Thomson Jay Hudson and Dr. 
H. C. Wood have pronounced him absolutely sane and possessed of a 
brilliant intellect. 


It will be a desperate legal battle. Mr. Chaloner has retained 
the best of counsel. So has the custodian of his one million dollars 
or two, T. T, Sherman, who says he is insane. It is very much like 
Charles Reade's "Very Hard Cash" all over again. 


It will be more than a legal fight. It will be a trial in which 
a man who has delved deep into psychic phenomena will try to prove 
that he is not insane just because he knows something more than the 
mere everyday things of life. Because a man is possessed of an 
X-faculty. a sub-consciousness with a psychic development, Mr. Chal- 
oner contends, does not prove him mentally incompetent. Because he 
has solved the mystery of "graphic automatism" does not prove him 
a lunatic. 

One might search fiction high and low for a case like this one in 
real life. 

It is one of the most remarkable stories of modern times. Here 
is a man of independent means, a man of affairs, a brilliant writer, 
an ardent sportsman, a clever reconteur, sent to "Bloomingdale," ad- 
judged hopelessly insane — "progressive," the physicians called his case. 

There he stays for nearly four years. He knows it is hopeless 
to protest. There he is, behind the bars, gone from the world for- 
ever. He dreams of freedom by night; by day he ponders over the 
problem of getting it. He knows that to be violent would see the 
end of his hopes; he acquiesces in every thing his keepers order, 
without a word of protest. It is the careful working of a mind bent 
on accomplishing its object — freedom! 

He waits his time. He gets the trust of every one about him. 
He does meekly everything that he is bidden — everything except ad- 
mit to the doctors that he is insane. He gets permission to take 
walks without a keeper. He makes his daily jaunts farther and far- 
ther away, deliberately practicing the art of covering great distances 
in a short time. He finds a post ofiice where he may receive letters 
under an assumed name, because nothing may reach him at the asylum 
nntil it has been scrutinized. In this way he manages to borrow 
$10 — this man with an income of $40,000 a year. 

And now what does he do? 

One day he does not return from his daily walk. No, he has 
walked well and far — he has taken a train to New York from an 
obscure railroad station miles distant from White Plains, where 
Bloomingdale now is. By nightfall he is safe in Philadelphia. 

Does he go into paroxysms of impotent rage at those who incar- 
cerated him, as do many of the insane when they escape? Does he 
try to kill those whom he might imagine responsible for his sufferings? 
Does he break out in incoherent ravings against fancied evils? 

No. He goes straightway to a sanitarium in Philadelphia. He 
states his case calmly to the physician in charge and asks to be put 


under scientific observation. After six month's voluntary confinement 
there the physicians tell him that he is perfectly sane and has al- 
ways been so. He is not even now content. He goes to another 
institution and goes through the same voluntary process all over again. 
Once more the physicians tell Mr. Chaloner he is well-balanced. Then 
suddenly he appears at his old home, Merry Mills, Cobham, Virginia, 
where he has stayed to this day, master of his estate, as at Roanoke 
Rapids, North Carolina . 


Meanwhile his family and his friends had given him up for dead 
Thousands of dollars had been spent in trying to find him. Finally it 
was said that he was gone forever. No one guessed that the quiet, 
rather punctilious Mr. John Childe, in the Philadeplhia sanitarium, 
was the missing John Armstrong Chaloner, cousin of Waldorf Astor. 

Once safely home, this so-called lunatic retained counsel. The 
mattei* of his sanity was brought up in the Virginia courts and then 
and there John Armstrong Chaloner was pronounced sane and com- 
petent. But the greater part of his fortune was here in New York 
State, and here it is on record that John Armstrong Chaloner is a 
hopeless lunatic. Should he come here, he would be deprived of his 
liberty. And that is why he is suing in the United States Court in 
the hope of winning back his inheritance and his standing as a man 
of sound mind. 

And why was John Armstrong Chaloner, Columbia University, 
'83, called insane? 

Because he was possessed of the power of "graphic automatism" 
and had developed his X-faculty — type of subconsciousness — was taken 
as evidence of insanity. 

Yet some of the most prominent psychological writers discuss this 
X-faculty in all seriousness and admit that there is such a thing as 
"graphic automatism." And all of this is told in a remarkable book, 
which Mr. Chaloner has just published. 

He calls it "Four Years Behind the Bars of Bloomingdale, or 
The Bankruptcy of Law In New York." In it he is extremely bitter. 
He calls "Bloomingdale" "The Bastile of the 400," and asserts very 
positively that it is an easy matter to put any one behind the bars 
forever as insane, just as Reade contended in his "Very Hard Cash." 

John Armstrong Chaloner first came into the public eye when he 
married Amelie Rives, who wrote that brilliant story, "The Quick or 
the Dead," in which is told the old love of a beautiful widow for her 
dead husband and her newer love for another man in the flesh. Jock 
Bering, the hero, was Chaloner. As she described him: 

"There was the same curling brown hair above a square, strong- 
modelled forehead; eyes the roior of autumn pools in sunlight; the de- 
termined yet delicate jut of the nose; the pleasing unevenness in 
the crowded, white teeth ; the fine jaw, which had that curve from 
ear to tip like the prow of a cutter." 



Her marriage to young Mr. Chaloner only added to the book's 
I»opularit3. She was beautiful, impetuous. Soon their friends came 
to realize that there was nothing in common between the grave, 
polished, rather mystic, New Yorker and the gifted Virginia girl. 

There was a divorce, which the husband did not contest, upon 
the ground of incompatibility, and the Mrs. Chaloner that was mar- 
ried Prince Troubetzkoy, whom she met abroad. 

The book that he has written as his plea to be counted sane con- 
tains 500 pages. In it many New Yorkers are mentioned — few of them 


"The more I know men the more I admire dogs," is the way Mr. 
Chaloner opens his book, quoting from Voltaire. 

And here is the way he begins : 

"The law in the State of New York, both State law and Federal 
law, has reached a point of impotency whereat an innocent man is 
about to be deprived of valuable property against his expressed will, 
and the law, both State and national, is impotent to save him." 

He refers to Mr. Hearst, and to Stanford White, whom he ac- 
cuses of luring him to "Bloomingdale," as follows : 

"A prominent party now running for a prominent political position 
is adversely commented upon between the boards of said book. Lastly 
in this particular connection. A certain prominent party recently 
shot to death is also commented upon between the boards of said 
book, whereas the trial of said prominent party's slayer comes up 
in the New York Supreme Court in a few weeks — that is to say, in 
the fall or winter of 1907, these lines being actually penned Sep- 
tember 29, 1906." 

The book recites with bitterness what the writer calls the in- 
justice of the proceedings leading up to the judgment of the New 
York Courts, and to his incarceration in "Bloomingdale." 

Of "Bloomingdale," he says : 

"We shall now point — but not with pride, as a member of over 
twenty years' standing of the New York bar — to the fact that we 
have been robbed, so to speak, of twenty thousand dollars by the 
Society of the New York Hospital, falsely known as 'Bloomingdale.' 

"Here we have twenty thousand dollars taken from an innocent 
and sane man by the long arm of the law, or what at present passes 
for law in the 'Empire State' of New York." 

How Stanford White got him to "Bloomingdale" is told in this 
wise : 

From a letter written while behind the bars by Mr. .John Arm- 
strong Chaloner, to a brother lawyer outside and smuggled out of 
"Bloomingdale" : 



"I received a telegram from my friend, Mr. Stanford White, pro- 
posing to visit me in company with a mutual friend. As I was on 
rather unfriendly terms with Mr. White at the time, owing to an 
abusive letter he had recently written me, I did not look forward 
to a visit from him with pleasure. I therefore sent him a telegram 
to say that I was not well enough to see him. A few days later Mr. 
White walked in on me, in company with a physician. I shall not 
attempt to picture my surprise. Let it suffice to say that I was struck 

"Mr. White hastily excused his intrusion and implored me to ac- 
company him to New York for a 'plunge in the Metropolitan whirl.' 
As I had some business which needed my attention in New York, I 

Of New York law, he says : 

"This is truly the "Empire State.' I sometimes wonder, as I look 
through the bars of my cell, how such things can be. outside the 
Russian 'Empire State.' 

"Fortunately for myself, however, I am no longer a citizen of 
the "Empire State.' but am and have been since 1895. a citizen of the 
sovereign State of Virginia, which title to sovereignty I propose to 
see Virginia make good by rescuing me." 

Of some other prominent gentlemen : 

"Plaintiff is far from being a pauper and therefore has no need 
of more money, plaintiff holding that a million is enough for any 
man, but not holding that the size of fortunes should be limited by 
law, but the manner of accumulating same should be so severely safe- 
guarded and shepherded by law that such thieves in sheep's clothing 
as Ambassador Joseph H. Choate. Senior, and Elbridge T. Gerry, and 
Francis Lagrade Stetson and the rest of the Forty Thieves of Blocm- 
ingdale would now be serving life sentences in Sing Sing. 

"Graphic automatism" he defines thus : 

"In a word, the writing is, as the name implies, automatic. So 
far — but so far only — as c-onscious thought, i. e.. conscious mental 
action is concerned, the hand does the writing without the help of 
the head. In other words, it is as though one had a magic pen— 
or pencil, since a pencil is smoother and easier to operate than a 
pen — that started out to write so soon as the operator took it into 
his or her hand. 


"The operator has no more inkling of what the next word will 
be before the said magic pen has written same than the onlooker. 

"'All the operator has to do is to hold the pen firmly in the 
fingers, dip same into the ink, and see the said graphic automatism." 


"bloomingdale" "a business proposition." 

He produces authorities who are quoted as saying that "graphic 
automatism" is a well recognized phenomenon, and that his trances 
were not signs of insanity. 

And of "Bloomingdale" thus: 

" 'Bloomingdale,' it may as well be admitted, first as last, is run 
purely for money, purely on business principles, and not on charitable 
ones. Every 'patient' within its walls is a 'pay patient,' and as high 
a 'pay patient' as the parties putting him or her there can be squeezed 
into making it. 

"The exceptions to this ironclad rule are a handful of pauper 
lunatics from Westchester County, who are taken in free for the 
purpose of dodging the county taxes on the large and valuable real 
estate and tenements possessed by the Society of the New York Hos- 
pital in the city of White Plains. 

"A candidate for a 'certificate of lunacy' is requested by his mas- 
ters therein — the said examining doctors — to stand up and then de- 
liberately throw himself off his balance by putting his feet so close 
together, toes and heels touching, that one's equilibrium is menaced. 
He is then commanded to extend his arms to their fullest extent, 
hands outspread, palms upward and close together. He is then ordered 
to open his mouth, put out his tongue and shut his eyes. 

"If he does not fall down on the spot he is lucky. It is while 
in the above described preposterous position that the physical observa- 
tions of the examiners is taken." 

Thus John Armstrong Chaloner presents his case. He will know 
his verdict soon. 

The Times-Dispatch, Richmond, Virginia, October 17, 1906. 


Was Entrapped By White. 

Weldon, North Carolina, October 16. — John Armstrong Qhaloner 
formerly of New York, after a silence of nine years, made a sensa- 
tional speech last night at Roanoke Rapids, the town he helped to 
build and in the development of which he was one of the chief pro- 
moters. He spoke in the public school hall, and his appearance upon 
the rostrum was the signal for a tempestuous storm of applause from 
the people of the town, who crowded the building to the doors. Mr. 


Clialoner was the picture of health and appeared in fine spirits. He 
was dressed in a black twilled cutaway coat, steel blue trousers, high 
turnover collar, black and red silk four-in-hand tie, with a gray pearl 
stickpin, patent leather lace shoes. 

Before beginning his speech he remcyed his dark blue melton over- 
coat, high derby hat, and laid aside his gloves and walking stick, it 
being the identical yellow Malacca silver-headed cane he walked out 
of prison and from behind "Bloomingdale" bars with. 

Mr. Chaloner said that what he had to say was a fearful comment 
upon human nature, and particularly upon that class of human nature 
known as high society. 

He said he had been a victim of about as cold-blooded and mer- 
cenary a plot as had ever been heard of. He spoke with warmth and 
flashing eye when he said that he was lured to New York by false 
friends and placed in "Bloomingdale" asylum. 

Mr. Chaloner said the courts of Albemarle County, Virginia, had 
adjudged him sane and capable of managing and taking care of his 
own property rights, and he reached a lofty stage of eloquence when 
he declared that he would make a strong and persistent effort to estab- 
lish to the world the just judgment of the Virginia courts. 

Mr. Chaloner charged that on evidence a plot had been hatched 
by certain individuals high in the directorate of the Roanoke Rapids 
Power Company to assess the stock of the company at 50 cents on 
the dollar and freeze out stockholders who could not or would not 
pay the assessment. 

He said that he was the largest stockholder by 1,000 shares, owning 
3,500 shares. "By some mysterious hocus-pocus," he said, "a referee 
is appointed to sit on my case who is so peculiar as to object to an 
investment of my surplus income to pay this assessment on my Roa- 
noke Rapid Power Company stock, although the committee and guard- 
ian ad J It em, appointed by the New York courts to protect my in- 
terests, highly approved and eloquently plead lor the protection of 
this valuable stock, particularly as the assessment amounts to only 
about $17,000, and there are over .$50,000 of accumulated income in 
the hands of the committee." 


Mr. Chaloner spoke for about two hours. He is greatly beloved 
dt Roanoke Rapids, and it would be hard for a New York court to 
convince the people of that town that John Armstrong Chaloner is not 
in full possession of every mental faculty, and their verdict is that 
be is as sane and as sound in body and mind as any man who dares 
charge to the contrary. 

Mr. Chaloner's enunciation is peculiarly distinct, and his voice has 
a penetrating quality, which would enable him to fill the largest hall 
without apparent effort, and his voice was as free from huskiness at 
the end of an hour's sustained speaking as when he began. 


Ex-Maj'or Treacy introduced Mr. Chaloner, as the best friend Roa- 
Hoke Rapids ever had. 

Mr. ChLloner announced his subject as "The Crime, the Cause 
and the Consequence." 

Mr. Chaloner said : "I was lured to New York from my then home, 
*The Merry Mills,' Cobham, Va., in February, 1897, by my supposed 
friend, but alas! as the sequel shows, false friend, the late Mr. Stan- 
ford White. 

"Now, no one can regret having to touch upon the character of 
a dead man more than myself, but unfortunately for the character 
of the dead man, he is so intimately woven into the web of my 
notorious case that it is impossible to describe the one without de- 
scribing the other. 


"There is something almost mysterious in the cause of the cold- 
ness that gradually crept over the warmth of our friendship, which 
dated back to 1892. There was no known to me cause for it, except 
that he seemed gradually to side with my hostile family against me. 

"As I said, I was lured from my then home by Mr. Stanford 
White. Mr. White implored me to 'take a plunge in the metropolitan 
whirl' of New York, and purely to oblige him I accepted. 

"By this emphatically is not meant a plunge behind the foot- 
lights. At said time more than ten years ago Mr. Stanford White 
studiously eschewed the footlights. 

"When I got to New York a doctor who had accompanied Mr. 
White to my then home, 'The Merry Mills,' Virginia, brought another 
man into my rooms at the Hotel Kensington, without asking my per- 
mission. This unknown doctor began to lie as soon as he opened his 
mouth. This unknown docotr had the face to say that he was an 
oculist, who was anxious to examine my eyes. What w^as my surprise 
to find later on that said alleged oculist was what is called in New 
York a medical examiner in lunacy. A few days later said 'oculist' 
dropped in after dark of a cold March night, with snow on the ground 
and I in bed, and briefly informed me that I was crazy. I laughed 
in his face. He told me to get up and follow him out of doors. He 
did not condescend to say where. He concluded by saying that re- 
sistance was useless, since he had another doctor in the next room 
and two men outside my door. To cut a long story short, I notified 
him that he had made a mistake in his calculations and had not 
brought enough men to carry me off that night. He at once agreed 
with me. Next day two policemen in plain clothes presented- them- 
selves, and I finally, after reflection, decided to accompany them to 
'Bloomingdale,' falsely so-called lunatic asylum at White Plains, New 
York. I shall simply say that it is impossible to describe the horrors 
of a madhouse, and shall, therefore, not attempt it. After standing 
about as much as I could of it, I decided to escape, and by good 
fortune did so. 



"As you all know, or have heard, this town was practically built 
by convict labor — I don't mean the houses, but the source of this 
town's prosperity: the water-power plant, so skillfully prospected, and 
so brilliantly achieved by my good friend, Major Thomas L. Emry. 
Well, I was in command of a gang of about fifty or sixty out of about 
eighty-five convicts making brick. I used to work them hard all day, and 
then frequently spend my evenings chatting with them in the big cell, 
and making my chat interesting by rather frequent gifts of water- 
melons in summer and tobacco in winter. In this way I gained the 
convicts' confidence — and there were some tough propositions among 
them, from burglars to others. Gradually I began to pump them and 
to get onto their little criminal ways. Finally I became an expert 
criminal in experience, not act. Well, when I found myself behind 
the bars of 'Bloomingdale' for life, I smiled a somewhat sarcastic 
smile, as I said to myself, 'I'm too expert a convict to be kept for 
life behind any bars.' To cut this section of the story, it was by 
applying the science of criminology, which I had learned in the prison 
pen at Roanoke Rapids, that I finally, after nearly four years of wait- 
ing for a proper opportunity for putting my said scientific knowledge 
into operation, escaped. 

"Police and detectives were put on my trail, but as I had left no 
trail, said gentlemen never got me. 

"Since the triumphant vindication of my sanity and competency 
in the County Court of Albemarle County, Virginia, November 6th, 
1901, I have been steadily working upon my case against said falsely 
alleged 'committee,' said T. T. Sherman. As you know, I am a law- 
yer. I was forced to draw my own brief because lawyers I approached 
did not care to spend the time or trouble to brief more than enough 
points to put me in possession of my property. 


"The laws on lunacy procedure in the State of New York are a 
disgrace to the civilization of that wealthy and populous State. The 
laws on lunacy procedure in the State of New York are a disgrace 
to any place less notoriously bad than Hades. Said law permits a 
man to be deprived of his liberty and practically of his property for 
life without notice of any proceedings being imder way ngninst his 
reason, and without an opportunity to nppear and be heard in his 
own defense. Such a state of things is startling, indeed. Such a 
state of things is sufficiently startling to startle me out of any and 
all desire to set foot inside the infernal regions of New York without 
a pass out of Hell. As a lawyer, I am truly disgusted at such a 
state of affairs, and as a lawyer have I shown said state of affairs 
surely up in book recently written by me, and to be published in a 
few days under the following title: 'Four Years Behind the Bars 
of "Bloomingdale" : or The Bankruptcy of Law in New York,' by John 


Armstrong Chaloner ; A. B., A. M., member of the bar of New York. A 
human document based upon the following court documents ; the pro- 
ceedings of 1897 and 1899 in New York ; the proceedings of 1901 in 
Virginia, and the proceedings of 1905 in North Carolina. 

"Just here I shall say that the courts of North Carolina have 
openly acknowledged my sanity and competency by permitting me to 
bring suit before them. 


"I wish to have a clean record mentally and as a sane man be- 
fore the world and my friends here. I am proud of your friendly 
feelings to me, and therefore I want to clear my skirts by coming up 
here and speaking of the veiled facts in this case, and to give you 
an idea of whether 'I can come in out of the rain or not,' and of 
the necessity of my drawing the veil aside and throwing the broad 
glare of the calcium on this matter, for if I do not bring this thing 
to the attention of the press, I may lose my stock in forty-eight hours, 
for all I know. When this book of mine comes out all the proof — 
and I have got it — will be forthcoming. And I give you my word 
of honor as a man that I can substantiate everything — the plot, etc., 
to get this stock. 


* But Mr. Chaloner is not the only Democratic candidate who will 
be more or less affected by the disclosures of my, alas! notorious case. 
Now, I approach this subject with caution, for the reason that the 
gentleman I am about to name is supposed to be a great friend of 
the workingman, and is supposed to be an inveterate enemy of all 
illegal law, of all bad tyrannical law of any nature or kind. Now, 
I have been forced or rather I have not been forced, but I took the 
opportunity, to test the sincerity of this very prominent and very 
wealthy gentleman, w^hom I shall shortly name. I was the friend of 
Mr. Arthur Brisbane, the right-hand man, and, many men say, the 
brains of William Randolph Hearst, candidate for Governor of New 

"Now, I went on to say that what I wrote to Mr. Hearst for was 
this, that I had unfortunately had difficulty with various lawyers whom 
I had employed, because I found, for various reasons, that they were 
less interested in the purifying of the laws tnan they were in con- 
necting with their fees, and, therefore, I was forced to write my own 
brief. ^ 


"When I came to these lawyers and said that I desired this brief 
so that the outrageous lunacy laws of New York should be forever 
purged, they looked at me good and hard and "turned me down." 
Then I set to work with the greatest disrust of my ability and wrote 


iHF owB brieC, which txnk me tiro years «d do. I fbu^ 
<itlia- law^ier^ diffieulties arose irlikii led to a diivne befeua mjmif 
and tlie nid other lamyerg^ so that I stand ahne in this gicat oi^ 
great not obIf tm account ai the mmear. there bene ower a ndlliA 
dollars inindv^d— hot because ctf tte fudanKutal points of law in- 
Tolred thezein. and I damt pnopoee for any mson under tenvcn to 
gire 19 mj S^at to preient saiK men aid wvuko ftom bei^ d^ 
^Ted of their Mbeitr and piactieUljr ol tteir jxapettj for life by 
the iniQislfoas laws of New Xw^ and 1 am sony to say. of several 
other States of whi^ I am prood to ay that North Carolina 
j^^ fMT^ * T^,r^ »|,e lunao' laws ot XcKth Carolina beiB_ 

-■^^ - ^ :Jie iKi^ plead by otha- lawy^^ proratnent in New 

--- - ~ : - : - ::d be extremely oUlsed if he would get me a 

^eat. playing the lleril with one Wll- 

- - . It _ :^e^ wiird^ I was playiog the role of the 

- T Tbetameiit; I was ten^ting BrotlKr 

Hr— -; ;. :^^^ _i _^ ~_; ^ : : ze"^?^^ dn^ when it came to giving 

MP sioney in a cause ^_: _ Li _ : at once Increase tte drcnlatiaB 

: 1 7 ijeis «• piKh hi. : izt^. So to tra^ Rrotfaer Heirsr 

I - T _^2i a chaufp z: 1 :: :_ it ^«as "a " TO*^ In the t^i..-r 

_^ -T I gare 1 _ _ _ t ::t 19 » £ee finr mj 

-TT _ : i_ _^ :: - : _:^ to find f:: _t 

and -Ll^ :z 

r in poriry- 

the new» 


Now, I an 
talk on tl 
the ra^Eer 

and as pc . • ■ . -: - - " --^ tf> 

bev he would race iioid - 


1 set a trap for bL 
tfainss he has done, firoiiu ^^ . . . ^ 


tickets, because nobody could be more opposed to trusts than your 
humble servant, myself; but I do believe in regularity in Democratic 
political methods, and I am now speaking to Southern men. and there 
are no men who are more regular in their political methods than the 
representatives of this glorious South, in which I have made my home, 
and I therefore disapprove of the crooked methods by which he se- 
cured the nomination for Governor of New York, by nothing less than 
theft — by unseating legally elected delegates in sufficient numbers to 
make up the deficit to his nefarious ends. 

"The above concludes the political end of this speech, and that is 
the consequence I had in mind when I selected as the title of this 
speech, 'The Crime, the Cause and the v^onsequence.' " 

Mr. Chaloner reached Weldon at 2 o'clock this morning and boarded 
a north-bound train for Cobham, Va. 

The Roanoke 'S^ews. Weldon, North Carolina, October 18, 1906. 


Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner, formerly of New York, but since 
July 13th, 1905, a legal resident of Roanoke Kapids, after a silence 
of nine years, made a strong and sensational speech at Roanoke Rapids 
Monday night. Mr. Chaloner appeared in perfect health and fine 
spirits and looked every inch capable of managing his property rights. 
Mr. Chaloner, in speaking of his four years in ''Bloomingdale'' asylum, 
said he had been the victim of as cold-blooded and mercenary a plot 
as had ever been heard of. He spoke with feeling of how he had 
been lured to New York by false friends and placed in "Blooming- 
dale" asylum and of his sensational escape. Mr. Chaloner said the 
courts of Albemarle County, Virginia, had adjudged him sane and 
sound of mind, capable of taking care of his own propert>' rights, and 
with forceful language he assured the people of the town he helped 
to build that he intended to make a strong and persistent fight to 
establish to all the world the truth of the Virginia courts as to his 
perfect sanity. 

Mr. Chaloner spoke of his book, soon to be published, in which he 
will tell of his four years behind the bars of "Bloomingdale," or the 
bankruptcy of the law in New York. 

Said that there was evidence that a plot had been hatched by 
certain individuals, high in the directorate of the Roanoke Rapids 
Power Company to assess the stock of the company at 50 cents on 
the dollar and freeze out holders who could not. or would not. pay 


the assessment. Said he was the largest stockholder by 1,000 shares. 
'*By some mysterious hocus-pocus a referee is appointed to\sit on 
mj case who is so peculiar as to object to an investment of my surplus 
income to pay said assessment on my stock, although the committee and 
guardian ad litem, appointed by the New York courts to protect my 
interests, highly approved and eloquently plead for the protection of 
this valuable stock, particularly as the assessment amounts to only 
about $17,000, and there are over $50,000 of accumulated income in 
the hands of the committee with which to meet this assessment." 

Mr. Chaloner spoke for about two hours. He was one of the chief 
promoters and builders of Roanoke Rapids, and for a long time this 
man who has over $1,000,000 in his own right, lived in a modest 
cottage in the town he loves, and where he is still held in the highest 
esteem by the good people of that place, who believe in his sanity 
and his capability to manage his own affairs as much as they do in 
their hope of salvation hereafter. 

The News-Leader, Richmond, Virginia, October 15, 1906. 



Hero of Famous Break from Lunatic Asylum. 

Former Husband of Amelie Rives, and Member of Famous New York 
Family Resumes His Fight for His Property. 

After several years of silence, John Armstrong Chaloner is about 
to come to the front again with, publications and legal proceedings 
which are likely to be sensational. He announces that he has in 
press and will begin to distribute the latter part of this week a book 
of 500 pages, which is said by those who have seen it to be a marvel. 

It will be remembered that Mr. Chaloner is a member of a very 
old and wealthy New York family, and a descendant of the original 
Astor. He has about a million In his own right, but a number of 
years ago was incarcerated in the "Bloomingdale" asylum in New York 
State as a lunatic. After four years of confinement he escaped in most 
sensationa 1 circumstances and disappeared, finally reappearing sud- 
denly in Albemarle Cbunty, this State, where he married Amelie 
Rives, the author of "The Quick or the Dead, ' from whom he was 
afterwards divorced and who now is Princess Troubetzkoy. 

Mr. Chaloner is a lawyer by profession and has devoted himself 
the last five years to acquiring a wonderful fund of information and 
precedent on lunacy laws of the world, giving special attention to 


those of New York, under which he insists that any sane man whose 
relatives desire to obtain possession or control of his property can be 
railroaded into an asylum and shut in indefinitely: The title of the 
book is : 

Four Years Behind the Bars 

of "Bloomingdale," 


The Bankruptcy of Law in New York, 


John Armstrong Chaloner, A. B., A. M., 

Meniher of the Bar of New York. 

On the back of the volume is the inscription: 

A Human Document: 

Based upon the following Court documents: Proceedings of 1897 
and 1899 in New York ; Proceedings of 1901 in Virginia, and the 
Proceedings in 1905 in North Carolina. 

The volume is issued by the Palmetto Press, Roanoke Rapids, N. 
C, and is dated "North Carolina, 1906." 

Mr. Chaloner is in the extraordinary and probably unprecedented 
position of being officially and legally a lunatic in his own State of 
New York, unable to return there without danger of arrest and in- 
carceration, and deprived of the control of his own property, which is 
in the hands of a committee, while m Virginia and North Carolina 
and elsewhere he is a free man, going and coming as he pleases and 
regarded as fully competent to manage his affairs according to the 
formal judgments of the court. He has property in both these States, 
and especially large interests at Roanoke Rapids, N. C, of which he 
was one of the founders. To-night or to-morrow night he will de- 
liver a public address to the people of that town in the school-house 
or the Baptist church. He made a speech several months ago, but 
this time he goes by special invitation, and his speech will be care- 
fully prepared in advance. 

The book he has written and published is said to consist almost 
entirely of extracts from official records, court judgments and pro- 
ceedings, etc. He asserts to his friends that from these documents 
he will prove some of the leading lawyers of the New York bar 
have been guilty of the most atrocius deceit and cruelty and of con- 
spiracy against his liberty and property ; and that he will show fur- 
ther that some distinguished citizens have been guilty of flat perjury, 
having contradicted themselves exactly. He will give the details 
of his escape from "Bloomingdale," which have not been published 
heretofore. He attacks the management and methods of that instruc- 
tion fiercely and insists that it is living under an alias and doing 
business with false pretenses. 


Mr. Chaloner's book and his renewed personal activity are taken 
to mean that after long preparation he has enlisted for a strenuous 
and active warfare ag'ainst the lunacy laws of New York especially, 
against those who have been instrumental in having him declared a 
lunatic and incompetent, and for the recovery of his property into 'his 
own keeping and the judicial confirmation of his competency and rignt 
to manage it Incidentally he proposes to show that advantage has 
been taken of him while he was supposed to be helpless, and that 
the property has been so managed and handled as to pile up expenses 
against it and deprive him of a considerable part of his income. 



To "Hard Cash," by Charles Reade, D. C. L. 

Boston : 

Dana, Estes & Company, 


"Hard Cash," like "The Cloister and the Hearth," is a matter-of- 
fact romance; that is, a fiction built on truths; and these truths have 
been gathered by long, severe, systematic labor from a multitude of 
volumes, pamphlets, journals, reports, manuscript narratives, letters 
and living people, whom I have sought out, examined, and cross-exam- 
ined, to get at the truth on each main topic I have striven to handle. 

The mad-house scenes have been picked out by certain disinter- 
ested gentlemen who keep private asylums, and periodicals to puff 
them; and have been met with bold denials of public facts and with 
timid personalities, and a little easy cant about Sensationt Novelists; 
but in reality those passages have been written on the same system 
as the nautical, legal, and other scenes; the best evidence has been 
ransacked; and a large portion of this evidence I shalL be happy to 
show at my house to any brother writer who is disinterested, and really 
cares enough for truth and humanity to walk or ride a mile in pur- 
suit of them. 


6 Bolton Row, Mayfair, December 5, 1863. 


Private Asylums. 

To the Editor of the Daily News: 

Sir, — When a writer of sensation romances makes a heroine push 
a superfluous husband into a well, or set a house on fire, in order to 
get rid of disagreeable testimony, we smile over the highly-seasoned 

tThis slang term is not quite accurate as applied to me. With- 
out sensation there can be no interest: but my plan is to mix a little 
character and a little philosophy with the sensational element. 

138 \ 

dish, but do not think it necessary to apply the warning to ourselves, 
and for the future avoid sitting on the edge of a draw-well, or having 
any but fireproof libraries. But when we read, as in the novel "Very 
Hard Cash," now publishing in "All the Year Round," that any man 
may, at any moment, he consigned to a fate which to a sane man would 
he worse than death, and that not hy the single act of any of our Lady 
Audleys, or other interesting criminals, hut as part of a regular organ- 
ized system, in all compliance with the laws of the land — when we 
read this a thrill of terror goes through the puhlio mind. If what Mr. 
Charles Reade says he possihle. who is safe? Allow me, as one thor- 
oughly conversant with the working of the law of lunacy, to reassure 
the minds of your readers by informing them that it is not possible. 
So many are the checks and securities with which the legislature has 
most properly surrounded the person of an alleged lunatic; so vigilant, 
patient, and so zealous in the discharge of their duties are the Com- 
missioners in Lunacy and the officially appointed visitors of the asy- 
lums that any one (not a sensation writer) imagining that these 
checks and securities could be evaded, these visitors hoodwinked in 
the way the author describes, would himself be a fit subject for a com- 
mission de lunatico inquirendo. 

So far from commissioners and visitors being put off with any 
"formula" such as the author quotes, (page 3) and believing any- 
body rather than the patient himself, the exact contrary is the 
fact, and very properly so. In my own cause, Earl Nelson, Viscount 
Folkestone, General Buckley, M. P., the Rev. Charles Grove, and 
Mr. Martin Coats, and in other asylums magistrates of equal intelli- 
gence and high standing fill the office of visitors; and never in any 
case do they refuse a private interview to any patient asking it. In 
these interviews no interference of any doctors or attendants, or any 
"formula" is possible, and the visitors will listen even to the most in- 
coherent ravings if there appears to be the slightest clew to be gath- 
ered from them to any real grievance. I say nothing of the terrible 
slander cast upon a body of professional men to which I am proud to 
belong. There is no redress for that. There are certain offences with 
which no court of law can deal; offences against decency, good taste, 
and truth, which can be brought before no tribunal but that of public 
opinion. I would only challenge Mr. Reade, in conclusion, if he has 
the slightest grounds for any belief in the possibility of the incidents 
he has put in print, to state those grounds. Let him quote his case, 
and openly and fearlessly declare when and where such atrocities 
occurred. I do not ask for one in all points resembling that which 
he has published; but one that furnishes even the slightest excuse for 
such a libellous attack upon those medical men who, like myself, prac- 
tice in lunacy. 

I am, etc., 

.T. S. BUSHNAN, M. D. 
Laverstock House Asylum, Salisbury. 


page 4) Private Asylums. 

To the Editor of the Daily News: 

Sir, — My attention is drawn to a letter written to you by J. S. 
Biishnan, M. D., to vent a little natural irritation on the author of 
"Very Hard Cash," and lull the public back into the false security 
from which that work is calculated to rouse them. 

I pass by his personalities in silence; but when he tells you, in 
the round-about style of his tribe, that "Very Hard Cash" rests on no 
basis of fact; that sane persons cannot possibly be incarcerated or de- 
tained under our Lunacy Acts; that the gentlemen who pay an asylum 
four flying visits a year know all that passes in it the odd three hun- 
dred and sixty-one days, and are never outwitted and humbugged on 
the spot; that no interference of doctors or attendants between visitor 
and patient, and no formulae of cant and deception are possible within 
the walls of a mad-house — this is to play too hard upon the credulity 
of the public, and the forgetfulness of the press. I beg to contradict 
all and every one of his general statements more courteously, I trust, 
than he has contradicted me, but quite as seriously and positively. Dr. 
Bushnan knows neither the subject he is writing of, nor the man he 
is writing at. In matters of lunacy I am not only a novelist; I am 
also that humble citizen who, not long ago, with the aid of the press, 
protected a sane man who had been falsely imprisoned in a private 
lunatic asylum.; hindered his recapture, showed him his legal remedy, 
fed, clothed, and kept him for twelve months with the aid of one true- 
hearted friend, during all which time a great functionary, though, paid 
many thousands a year to do what I was doing at my own expense — 
justice — did all he could to defeat justice, and break the poor suitor's 
back (page 5) and perpetuate his stigma by tyrannically postponing, 
and postponing, and postponing, and postponing his trial to please 
the defendant. At last this great procrastinator retired, and so, 
that worst enemy of justice, "the postponement swindle," died, and 
by it's death trial ty jury rose again from the dead, even for an 
alleged lunatic. Well, sir, no sooner did we get him before thirteen 
honest men in the light of day, than this youth — whom the mad doc- 
tors had declared and still declare insane, whom two homuncules, com- 
missioners in lunacy, had twice visited in the asylum, and conversed 
with, and done nothing whatever towards his liberation — stood up 
eight hours in the witness-box, was examined, cross-examined, bad- 
gered; yet calm, self-possessed, and so manifestly sane that the de- 
fendant resigned the contest, and compounded the inevitable damages, 
giving us a verdict, the costs, fifty pounds cash, and an annuity of one 
hundred pounds a year. 

All this, says Dr. Bushnan, is impossible. 

I closely examined this youth as to his fellow-patients, and, as he 
could minutely describe the illusions of the insane ones, I find it hard 


to doubt his positive statement that two patients in that same house 
were perfectly sane. 

Of course, the main event I have related made some noise; real 
and alleged lunatics heard there was a Quixotic ass in this island who 
would, in his unguarded moments, give away justice at his own ex- 
pense instead of selling it for so many thousands a year and not de- 
livering the article; and I was inundated with letters and petitions, 
and opened a vein of private research by which the readers of "Hard 
Cash" will profit; all except Dr. Bushnan. A lady called on me and 
asked me to get her sister out of a private asylum, assuring me she 
was sane, and giving me proofs. Having observed that to get out of 
an asylum you must first lye out of it. I cudgelled my brains, (page 6) 
and split this prisoner in half; I drew up a little document author- 
izing a certain sharp attorney to proceed in law or equity for her 
relief; and sent her sister into the asylum to get it signed by the 
prisoner. She did sign it, and thus armed, her other self, the attor- 
ney, being, outside the asylum, was listened to, though a deaf ear had 
always been turned to her. After a correspondence, which has served 
me as a model in the current number of "Hard Cash," after, in vnin, 
suggesting tier discharge to the parties pecuniarily interested in de- 
taining her, the board actually plucked up courage and discharged her 
themselves. We all saw her often after this, and were hours in her 
company. She was perfectly sane, as sane as I am, and much saner 
than some of the mad doctors are at this hour, as time wall show. 
This case opened another vein of research, and my detective staff was 
swelled by a respectable ex-attendant (female) who gave me the names 
of two or three sane ladies at that time in durance vilest to her knowl- 
edge. Three years after the supposed date of Alfred Hardie's impossible 
incarceration came the flagrant case of Mattheio v. Harty, some of whose 
delicious incidents have been used in "Hard Cash," and will be con- 
tradicted by humbugs and condemned as improbable by gulls; at least 
I venture to hope so. The defendant was one of that immaculate class, 
tc criticize some of whom, if I understand Dr. Bushnan aright, is to 
libel the whole body; and the plaintiff was a distinguished young 
scholar in Dublin. Defendant enticed him into a mad-house, and there 
left him in a common flagged cell; but to amuse his irrational mind, 
lent him what? Peter Parley, or Dr. Littlewit's conjectures about the 
intellect of Hamlet? Oh, dear! no; "Stack's Optics," "Lloyd's Me- 
chanical Philosophy," "Brinkley's Astronomy," Cicero de Officlls," and 
"Stock's Lucian." 

(page 7) Enter the official inspector; is appealed to. admits his 
sanity, promises to liberate him, and with that promise dismisses the 
matter from his official mind, and goes his way contented. This was 
sw^orn to and not contradicted. Then comes Dr. Harty and urges him 
to confession in these memorable words, sworn to, and not contradicted. 
"Your safety will consist in acknowledging you are insane, and your 
sanity will appear by admitting your insanity." Matthew saw the 


hook, and declined the bait. Now there was in this asylum a boy 
called Hoolahan, whose young mind had not been poisoned, and whose 
naked eye was as yet undimmed by the spectacles of cant and preju- 
dice. So he saw at a glance Matthew was sane, and, not being paid 
a thousand a year to pity him, pitied him. 

Hoolahan took a letter to Matthew's college chum. In that letter 
Matthew poured out his wrongs and his distress. But suppose it 
should be intercepted? Matthew provided against this contingency; 
he couched his letter in Ciceronian Latin, humbly conceiving that this 
language would puzzle the doctors as much as the Latin in their pre- 
scriptions would puzzle Cicero. Mr. Hall got the letter, and not being 
paid to protect alleged lunatics, took the matter up in earnest, and 
so frightened Dr. Harty that he discharged Matthew at once; and said, 
"Now, don't you be induced to bother me about this trifle; I'm an old 
man, and going to die almost immediately." On this Matthew took the 
alarm, and served a w^rit on him without loss of time. The cause came 
on, and was urged and defended with equal forensic ability. But evi- 
dence decides cases, and the plaintiff's evidence was overpowering. 
Then the defendant, despairing of a verdict, bethought him how he 
might lower the inevitable damages; he instructed his counsel to re- 
veal that "the young man who was now prosecuting him to (page 8) 
death was his own illegitimate son.'' 

At this revelation, ably and feelingly introduced by Counsellor 
Martly, the sensation was, of course, immense, and being in Ire- 
land, a gallerj^ came dow^n just then and the coup de theatre w^as per- 
fect. Many tears were shed; the public was moved; the plaintiff still 
more so. For it is not often that a man, w^ho has passed for an orphan 
all his life, can plant a w^rit and reap a parent. "Japhet in Search of a 
Father" should have wandered about serving writs. The jury either 
saw that the relationship was irrelevant in a question so broad and 
civic, or else they were fathers of another stamp, and disapproved of 
tender parents who disown their offspring for twenty-four years, and 
then lock them up for mad, and only claim kindred in court to miti- 
gate damages. At all events they found for Mr. :\Iaatthew, with dam- 
ages one thousand pounds. 

All this, says Dr. Bushnan, w^as utterly impossible. "Well, the im- 
possibility in question disguised itself as fact, and went through the 
hollow form of taking place, upon the 11th, 12th, and 13th December, 
1851, and the myth is recorded in the journals, and the authorized re- 
port by Elrington, jun., and W. P. Carr, barrister at law% is published 
in what may be an air bubble, but looks like a pamphlet by :\rGIashan, 
50 Upper Sackville street, Dublin. But I rely mainly on the private 
cases, which a large correspondence wath strangers, and searching in- 
quiry amongst my acquaintances, have revealed to me; unfortunately 
these are nearly always accompanied with a stipulation of secrecy; so 
terrible, so ineradicable, is the stigma. Hall v. Semple'' clearly adds 
its mite of proof that certificates of insanity are still given recklessly; 


but to show you how strong I am, I do not rely at all on disputable 
cases like Nottidge, Ruck, and Leech; though in the two latter of these 
cases the press leaned strongly against the insanity of the prisoners, 
and surely the press is less open to prejudice in this matter than Dr. 
Bushnan is, who dates his confident conjectures from a madhouse, 
(page 9) It seems I have related in "Hard Cash" that in one asylum 
(not Dr. Wycherley's), when Alfred Hardy went to complain to a 
visitor, a keeper interfered and said, "Take care, sir, he is dangerous." 

And this I then and there call a formula, one out of many. 
"Dreamer," says Dr. Bushnan, "there are no such things as formulae 
in madhouses; and no interference between patient and inspector is 
possible, for there are none in my asylum, and therefore there can be 
none in any other." Oh, logic of psychologicals! 

Mr. Drummond, in a debate on lunacy, testified as follows: "Now 
the honorable gentleman had remarked that it was very easy for per- 
sons in these establishments who had a complaint to make to make it. 
Was it really so? (Hear, hear.) He thought otherwise. He could 
only say that, whenever he had visited an asylum and went up to a 
lunatic who had stated that he had a ground of complaint, some keeper 
immediately evinced an unusual interest in his personal welfare, and 
cautioned him, saying, 'Take care, sir! he is a very dangerous man.' 
(Hear.) The length of this letter, which, after all, but skims the mat- 
ter, arises out of the importance of the subject, and the nature of all 
argument based on evidence. It takes but a few lines to make many 
bold assertions, and to challenge Mr. Reade to prove them false. But 
the Readian proofs cannot be so compressed. "Plus negabit in una 
liora unus doctor, quam centum docti in centum annis probaverinty 

I conclude by begging you to find space for the following extract 
from a respectable journal. I have many such extracts in my London 
house: this one is a fair representative of the press, and of its con- 
victions and expressions at the time when it issued: Extract — "Here 
are two cases (Mrs. Turner and Mr. Leach) : We have before us 
the particulars of a third, but we are not, unfortunately, in a condi- 
tion to publish the names. Suffice it to say that an unfortunate 
(page 10) gentleman M^ho had been suffering from bodily disorder, 
which finally affected his brain, but who was not mad, was incarce- 
rated in one of those horrid dens which are called private lunatic 
asylums, and there confined for months. By his own account he was 
treated with the greatest cruelty, strapped down to a bed with broad 
bands of webbing, and kept there until it was supposed he was dying. 
The result we will state in the sufferer's own words: "My back, from 
lying in one constrained posture, was a mass of ulcerated and slough- 
ing sores; my right hand was swollen enormously, and useless; and 
two 'fingers of the left hand were permanently contracted, and the 
joints destroyed. I also lost several front teeth." This poor man at 
last obtained his liberty, and applied to the commissioners for redress. 
Their letter in reply is now before us. The commissioners merely say 


that, although they do not in any degree impugn the integrity of the 
complainant's statements, they are not of the opinion that inquiry 
would answer any good purpose. They add, however, that, "in order 

to mark their opinion on the subject they have granted Mr 

a license provisionally for the limited period of four months only, and 
that the renewal will depend upon the condition and management of 
his establisment being entirely satisfactory in the meantime." (As if 
any great criminal would not undertake to behave better or more cau- 
tiously if, after detecting him by a miracle, we were weak enough to 
bribe him to more skillful hypocrisy by the promise of immunity.) 
Poor consolation this for all the misery the wretched sufferer had un- 
dergone. Here, then, are three cases following one upon the other in 
rapid succession. How many remain behind of which we know noth- 
ing? The fact would appear to he that under existing arrangements 
(page 11) any English man or woman tnay, without much difficulty, 
he. incarcerated in a private lunatic asylum when not deprived of 
reason. If actually deprived of reason when first confined patients 
may he retained in duress when their cure is perfected, and they ought 
to he released. 

I am, etc., 


Mag;dalen College, Oxford, October 23, 1863. 

To this letter I hear Dr. Bushnan has replied doum in the country. 
By this, and by his not sending me a copy, may I not infer he prefers 
having it all his own way in the neighborhood of his asylum to en- 
countering me again before the nation? 

The extract above quoted is, I believe, from the Times, and was 
accompanied by an admirable letter of three columns, thus entitled: 

Lunatic Asylums and the Lunacy Law. 
(By a Physician.) 

This honest inquirers should read, and also the newspaper reports 
of false imprisonment and cruelty, during the last twelve years, and 
the contemporaneous comments of the press, before deciding to over- 
rate my imaginative powers, and underrate my sincerity, and my 
patient, laborious industry. 

In January, 1870, the editor of the Pall Mall Gazette drew attention 
to the fact that several lunatics had died of broken ribs in varous asy- 
lums, and that the attendants had furnished no credible solution of the 
mystery. This elicited the following letter from the author <3^ "Hard 
Cash" : 

How Lunatics' Ribs Get Broken. 

To the Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette: 

Sir,— The Pall Mall Gazette, January 15, deals with an important 
question, ''the treatment of lunatics," and inquiries, inter alia, how 


(page 12) Santa Nistri came to have his breastbone and eight ribs 
fractured at Hanwell; and how other patients have died at the same 
place of similar injuries; and how William Wilson came to have 
twelve ribs broken the other day at the Lancaster County Asylum. 
The question is grave; the more so, that, by every principle of statis- 
tics, scores of ribs must be broken, one or two at a time, and nobody 
the wiser, under a system which rises periodically to such high figures 
of pulverization, and so lets in the faint light of an occasional inquest, 
conducted by credulity in a very atmosphere of mendacity. I have 
precise information, applicable to these recent cases, but not derived 
from them, and ask leave to relate the steps by which the truth came 
to me. 

On the 2d January, 1851, Barnes, a lunatic, died at Peckham 
House, with an arm and four ribs broken. The people of the asylum 
stuck manfully together, and agreed to know nothing about it; and 
justice would have been baffled entirely, but for Donnelly, an insane 
patient — he revealed that Hill, a keeper, had broken the man's bones. 
Hill was tried at the Central Criminal Court, and convicted of man- 
slaughter on Donnelly's sole evidence, the people of the asylum main- 
taining an obdurate silence to the end. About 1858, I think, a lunatic 
patient died suddenly, with his breastbone and eight ribs broken, which 
figures please compare with Santa Nistri's. As it had taken a keeper 
to break the five bones of Barnes, nobody believed that accident had 
broken the nine bones of Seeker; that, I think, was the victim's name; 
but this time the people of the asylum had it all their own way; they 
stuck manfully together, stifled truth, and baffled justice. (See the 
Ninth Report of the Commissioners in Lunacy, p. 25.) Late in July, 
1858, there was a ball at Colney Hatch. The press were invited, and 
came back singing the praises of that blessed retreat. What order! 
(page 13) What gayety! What non-restraint! 

fortunatos nimium sua si 'bona norint lunaticos. 

Next week or so Owen Swift, one of the patients in that blest 
retreat, died of the following injuries: breastbone and eleven ribs 
broken, liver ruptured. Varney, a patient — whose evidence reads like 
that of a very clear-headed if you compare it with the doc- 
tor's that follows it — deposed to this effect: Thursday, at dinner-time. 
Swift was in good health and spirits and more voluble than Slater, 
one of the keepers, approved. Slater said, "Hold your noise." Swift 
babbled on. Slater threvv^ the poor man down, and dragged him into 
the padded room, which room then resounded for several minutes 
with "a great noise of knocking and bumping about" and with the 
sufferer's cries of agony till these last were choked, and there was 
silence. Swift was not seen again till Saturday morning; and then, 
in presence of Varney, he accused Slater to his face of having mal- 
treated him, and made his words good by dying that night or the very 
next morning. This evidence was borne out by the state of the body 
fractured sternum, and eleven fractured ribs), and not rebutted by 


any direct, or, indeed, rational testimony. Yet the accused was set 
free. But the press and the country took the decision ill. A Mid- 
dlesex; magistrate wrote to the Times, August 21, 1860, to remon- 
strate, and drew attention to a previous idiotic verdict in a similar 
case. And whereas the medical man of the establishment had 
assisted to clear the homicide by his own ignorance of how bones can 
be broken wholesale without proportionate bruises or flesh wounds, 
a correspondent of the Daily Telegraph enlightened his professional 
ignorance on that head, and gave the public the only adequate solution 
of Owen Swift's death, which had been either spoken or written up 
that day. 
(page 14) That one adequate solution was the true one. 

Daily Telegraph, August 8, 1860. Time, 1862. Place, Hanwell. 
Matthew Geoghegan, a patient, refused to go to bed. Jones, a keeper, 
threw him down, and kicked him several times; then got a stick and 
beat him; then he got a fire-shovel and beat him; then jumped on his 
body; then walked up and down his body; of which various injuries 
the man died, not immediately, but yet so speedily that the cuts and 
bruises were still there to show what had killed him. Bone, a brick- 
layer, and eye-witness of the homicide, swore to the above facts. Linch, 
Bone's laborer, another eye-witness, swore to the same facts. The 
resident engineer swore that Bone and Linch were both true men. 

Dr. Jepson had found the man with bruises, one of which, on his 
abdomen, had been caused by the heel of a boot. Per contra, a doctor 
was found to swear as follows: "I swear that I think he died of pleuro- 
pneumonia. I swear that / don't know whether his external injuries 
contributed to his death." And upon this, though no pleuro-pneumonia 
could be shown in the mutilated body, though Bone and Linch, disin- 
terested witnesses, deposed to plain facts, and the doctor merely de- 
livered a wild and improbable conjecture, and then swore to his own 
ignorance on the point in doubt, if doubt there could be; yet this 
jury, with their eyes to confirm what their ears heard sworn, and 
their ears to confirm what their eyes saw written on the mangled 
corpse, actually delivered the following verdict: 

"Deceased died after receiving certain injuries from external vio- 
lence but whether the death was occasioned by natural causes, or by 
such violence there was not sufficient evidence to show." They then 
relieved their consciences in the drollest way. They turned round on 
Bone and Linch, and reprimanded them severely for not having inter- 
fered to prevent the cruelty, which they themselves were shielding 
in the present and fostering in the futrue by as direct a lie as ever 
(page 15) twelve honest men delivered. 

Suppose the bricklayer and his man had replied, "Why, look 
ye, gentlemen; we came into the madhouse to lay bricks, not to do 
justice. But you came into the madhouse to do justice. We should 
have lost our bread if we had interfered; but you could have afforded 
to play the men — and didn't." I enclose herewith the evidence of the 


bricklayers, and the sworn conjectures of tlie doctor, in re Geoghegan: 
also the evidence of the doctor, and of the comparatively clear-headed 
lunatic i}i re Sicift. About this time my researches into the abuses 
of private a^s-i/la (which abuses are quite distinct from the subject in 
hand) brought me into contact with multifarious facts, and with a 
higher class of evidence than the oflicial inquirers permit themselves 
to hear. They rely too much on medical attendants and other servants 
of an asylum, whose interest it is to veil ugly truths and sprinkle 
hells with rose-water. I, on the contrary, examined a number of ex- 
patients who had never been too mad to observe, and ex-attendants, 
male and female, who had gone into other lines of life, and could 
now afford to reveal the secrets of those dark places. The ex-keepers 
were all agreed in this — that the keepers know how to break a patient's 
bones without bruising the skin; and that the doctors have been duped 
again and again by them. To put it in my own words, the bent knees, 
big bluntish bones, and clothed, can be applied with terrible force, 
yet not leave their mark upon the skin of the victim. The refractory 
patient is thrown down and the keeper walks up and down him on his 
knees, and even jumps on his body, knees downwards, until he is 
completely cowed. Should a bone or two be broken in this process, it 
does not much matter to the keeper; a lunatic complaining of internal 
injury is not listened to. He is a being so full of illusions that nobody 
believes in any unseen injury he prates about. 

(page 16 I In these words, sir, you have the key to the death of 
Barnes, of Sec-ker, if that was the maan"s name: and of other victims 
recorded by the commissioners, of Xistri, and of William Wilson, at 

I hope this last inquiry has not been weakly abandoned. It is a 
very shocking thing that both brute force and traditional cunning 
should be employed against persons of weak understanding, and that 
they should be so often massacred, so seldom avenged. Something 
might be done if the people of Lancashire would take the matter seri- 
ously. The first thing they should do is to inquire whether the keeper 
who killed a stunted imbec-ile by internal injuries in the Lancaster 
Asylum. May, 1S63. is still in that asylum. See Public Opinion. No- 
vember 19. 1S63. The next step is to realize and act upon the two fol- 
lowing maxims: 

First, it is the sure sign of a fool to accept an inadequate solution 
of undeniable facts. 

Secondly, to advance an inadequate solution o: facts so indis- 
putable as twelve broken ribs is a sign either of guilt or guilty con- 
nivance. Honest men in Lancashire should inquire who first put 
forward some stupid, impudent falsehood to account for the twelve 
broken ribs of Wilson. The first liar was probably the homicide, or 
an accomplice. Just to prove the importance I attach to this inquiry, 
permit me, through your columns, to offer a reward of a hundred 
pounds to any person or persons who will give such evidence as may 


lead to the conviction of the person or persons who have killed William 
Wilson, by kneeling on him, by walking knees downwards upon him, 
and umping knees downwards upon him. It is interest that closes 
men's mouths in these dark places. We must employ the same instru- 
ment to open them; it is our only chance. 

I am, sirs, yours very faithfully, 

2 Albert Terrace, Knightsbridge, 
January 17, 1870. 



Wood, Horatio Curtis, M. D., born Philadelphia, Jan. 13, 1S41. 
Graduate M. D. University of Pennsylvania, 1S62; Professor Botany. 
1860-76; Professor Therapeutics since 1S76: also, since 1S75 Clinical 
Professor Diseases of the Nervous System University of Pennsylvania; 
has written numerous scientific treatises: Editor, 1S70-73, of "Xew 
Ptemedies" ; Editor, 1S73-80, Philadelphia "Medical Times"" ; since 
18S4 Editor Therapeutic Gazette; also edited United States Dispen- 
sary: Author of "Materia Medica and Therapeutic"" ; ''Brain Work and 
Over Work" ; "Xervous Diseases and their Diagnosis"" ; "Thermic 
Fever, or Sunstroke" ; "The Algse of North America" (Smithsonian 
Contributions) : "The Phalangidge of the United States" ; "Researches 
Upon American Hemp," etc. Member of National Academy of Sciences 
since 1S79. Address: 1925 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. 

— From Who's Who in America. 

(Statement by Dr. Horatio Curtis Wood.) 

December 10th. 1900. 

Dictated by Dr. H. C. Wood, in the presence of Mr. Childe." 
"John Armstrong Chaloner graduated from Columbia College in 
1883, with the degree of B. A.: in ISS-i, received degree of M. A.; 
studied for M. A., psychology and philosophy especially: admitted to 
the New York Bar in 1SS5; married in ISSS: divorced in 1S95, after 
a long period of disagreement and coolness: divorce given on the 
ground of incompatibility. 

Very active business man. Always kept up to some extent his 
interest in psychology". In 1S93 first noticed what he calls "premoni- 
tions"; meaning by that, that after thinking over a subject over night, 
mapping out a course of action, he would wake up in the morning 
v.-ith a feeling of exhilaration, of depression, or of indifference. \STien 
exhilarated always found his plan judicious and things went well: 

■i- Plaintiff's, John Armstrong Chaloner's, alia.< in Philadelphia. 
Since the ix)lice were on plaintiffs track at said time great caution 
had to be employed to shield plaintiffs identity. 


\\lierL depressed found it always wise to modifj- to a greater or less 
degree his plan of action; indifference meant there was going to be 
nothing of interest that day. Also when he had made no plans would 
have similar feelings; and found the feeling of exhilaration preceded 
a day of good fortune, of depression a day of things going wrong; 
indifference meant just indifference. 

Latter part of December, 1896, accidentally discovered that at cer- 
tain times and conditions, if he w^ould take a pencil in his hand it 
Vrould write without his making conscious effort or giving direction. 
At times the pencil would write nonsense. (Mr. Chaloner explains:) 
"This 'nonsense' was not incoherent in the slightest degree; grammar 
was correct; sense always perfectly plain; only the 'nonsense' referred 
to impossible statements and alleged prophecies about me. At other 
times the waiting would refer to business or other personal matters, 
and give judgment and reasons which were sound and often borne 
out in fruits. At one time, Mr. Chaloner, to test the accuracy of this 
judgment, speculated under the direction of the writing in a small 
way in Wall Street; (Mr. Chaloner) 'A few hundred dollars" with 
successful result. Never did this again. (Mr. Chaloner) "Never 
would it suggest speculation again." Shortly after the development 
of "graphic automatism" (words first used by Mr. Chaloner himself), 
Mr. Chaloner found that he at times could talk in the same w^ay, his 
vocal utterances being unconnected wdth conscious cerebration. The 
following is Mr. Chaloner's statement as to the way in which he first 
passed into the condition which he terms "Napoleonic trance." (Of 
bis own accord, Mr. Chaloner, has denominated previous to any inter- 
view with me, this faculty of vocal or g;raphic automatism as "X- 
Faculty.") Mr. Chaloner states as follows: 

"In communicating with my "X-Faculty" by means of vocal 
automatism which is also one of my trance-like states, I w^as informed 
by my "X-Faculty" that it w^ould like me to go into a Napoleonic 
trance. It gave me to understand that I would represent the death of 
Napoleon Bonaparte by so doing, and that my features, when my eyes 
w^ere closed, and face, would resemble strongly those of the dead Napo- 
leon Bonaparte. This v/as in February, 1897, upon or shortly after 
my arrival at the Hotel Kensington, New^ York City. My "X-Faculty" 
did not tell me what to do in order to produce the so-called Napoleonic 
trance; it merely informed me that when the time came it w^ould in- 
struct me what to do to produce the said trance. The distinguished 
sculptor. Saint Gaudens, calling at the Hotel Kensington, shortly after 
my arrival, while I was in bed, in the evening my "X-Faculty" gave 
me to understand without Mr. Saint Gaudens knowing it, that it would 
be the proper time for me to enter the Napoleonic trance. I asked 
Mr. Saint Gaudens if he would like to see me enter a trance; I w^as 
interested myself from a scientific point of view to know just w^hat I 
would do in a trance, never having entered one before. I was also 
interested to know^ if the prognostications of the "X-Faculty" regard- 


ing mv face and features strongly resembling those of Napoleon Bona- 
parte in deatli were accurate or false. 

Mr. Saint Gaudens expressed keen interest in seeing me in a 
trance. I then took, under the direction of my ''X-Faculty' a small 
hand mirror, which I used for shaving, in both my hands, and holding 
it rigidly extended above my head stared at my eyes for several mo- 
ments without any result, I did not know but what the experiment 
was about to prove abortive and ridiculous; it was one of the most 
daring experiments I ever entered for that reason. After a minute 
or two of complete passivity and rigidity, for the first time in my life 
I experienced the entrance to a trance. It is excessively interesting 
as an experience. The first symptoms I had of the entering therein 
were slow, deep breaths, utterly involuntary on my part: these gradu- 
ally increased in force and frequency until they resembled what I im- 
agine are death gasps, by which I mean a man dying and gasping for 

( In reply to a question from Dr. Wood, as to whether he had ever 
seen a man die gasping, 'Mr. Chaloner, said he had not. Mem. from 
Dr. Wood, that the description is not accurate.) 

These gasps continued in frequency and force to increase, anc my 
mouth to distend, and remain open, stretched open to its fullest extent. 
This continued for several moments, I should judge ten, though I 
have no means of judging, simply guess. At the end of the supposed 
ten minutes, my hands slowly placed the mirror on the bed, my eyes 
closed, and the Napoleonic death-trance, so-called by my "X-Faculty,'" 
had begun. Of course I cannot judge, having my eyes shut, of the le- 
semblance of my features and face under the above described circum- 
stances to those of Napoleon Barnaparte in death: all I know is from 
the remarks of the persons who have witnessed this Napoleonic death- 
trance, so-called, to wit: Mr. Saint Gaudens asked me to desist, said 
it was very affecting, that he was unaccustomed to a tranze, and 
asked me not to enter it again in his presence. 

(Question by Dr. Wood: Were you conscious during this time? 
Answer: Entirely conscious during all this time. » 

A few days later, I mentioned this occurrence to Mr. Stanford 
White and Dr. E. F. when they were both visiting me. They expressed 
a desire to see me under the so-called Napoleonic trance. I did so 
\mder the same conditions as before Mr. Saint Gaudens. When I en- 
tered the death-trance, while my eyes were closed. Mr. White was so 
affected by the trance that he acted as though he were literally in the 
presence of death, whispering in a reverential tone to Dr. E. F.. **It 
is exactly like Napoleon's death-mask, I have the photograph cf it at 
home." I afterwards asked Mr. ^Tiite if he had made that remark 
to Dr. E. F., and he admitted it frankly. 


(Question by Dr. Wood: How do you come out of these trances? 
Answer: By effort of conscious will.) 

These were the only occasions upon which I entered the Napole- 
onic death-trance, so-called, with one exception. The exception was 
in the early Summer of 1899, when at the request of Drs. Austin 
Flint, Sen. and Carlos MacDonald, I entered the Napoleonic death- 
trance, so-called. After I had entered the death-trance I heard Dr. 
Austin Flint, Sen., say in a low tone to Dr. Carlos MacDonald, "Come 
around to the side and see the profile." Dr. Austin Flint, Sen., seemed 
somewhat affected by the death-trance, for after making the above re- 
mark he stepped hastily to the bed, and patting me on the knee, said, 
"Come out of it, come out of it; you can, cannot you?" 

(Question by Dr. Wood: When you want to come out you do 
something? Answer: When I want to come out of the trance it re- 
ouires some act on my part.) 

Questions by Dr. Wood, and answers by Mr. Chaloner. 

W. Do you believe that the results of the action of the "X-Fac- 
ulty" are due to the presence of any kind of a spirit, or to spiritual 
influence in you? 

C. No. 

W. Do you believe there was anything supernatural in this? 

C. No. 

W. Do you believe that the judgments delivered are infallible? 

C. No. # 

W. Do you believe that you have in these conditions the power of 
prophecy beyond rational forejudgment. 

C. No. 

W. In using the word "automatism" as a name, was it or was it 
not your thought that these results were due to a spontaneous effort 
of intellectual faculties, independent of the will and consciousness? 
I do not know if you understand what I mean. 

C. I understand what you mean. Independent in this way only; 
that they cannot be necessarily voluntarily initiated by an act of will 
on my part, but they can be instantly arrested by an) act of will on 
my part. 

(Answers to the above questions in no way prompted.) 

Voluntarily, without question, Mr. Chaloner says that since he 
studied psychology at Columbia great strides have been made in the 
experimental section of psychology and in the nomenclature thereof; 
and the phrases and terms of modern psychology are almost totally 
unknown to him, for the reason that he has not studied Psychology 
since leaving the College. "All my work in Psychology has been from 
Nature's book, and not from printed matter. The two terms "vocal 


automatism" and "graphic automatism" I have taken bodily from 
Professor Flournoy's book entitled "From India to the Planet Mars." 
I will say incidentally that I agree almost entirely with Professor 
Flournoy in his conclusion touching the "Medium" Helene Smith, 
whose trances are described in; the book "From India to the Planet 
Mars." In other words I am anti-spiritualistic. I do not believe in 
spiritualism. As a Christian — I am a communicant of the Episcopal 
Church — I believe in the existence of spirits but in another world; 
and I disbelieve absolutely that there is any communication whatso- 
ever, direct or indirect, between living human beings and disembodied 
spirits in this world." 

Mr. Chaloner's divorce was preceded for some years by a progres- 
sively increasing estrangement from his) wife, which grew out of in- 
compatibility of temper and ways. This estrangement dated back to 
the Fall of 1890, when he left Mrs. Chaloner in Europe, she being 
unwell, whilst he came back to New York to found the "Paris Prize 
Fund." The* divorce was asked for by his wife and not resisted by 
himself; and never since has he visited or tried to visit, or followed, 
or in any way tried to communicate with the former Mrs. Chaloner, 
and has no desire so to do. 


Jastrow, Joseph. Professor of Psychology in the University of 
Wisconsin since 1888; born Warsaw, Poland, January 30, 1863; gradu- 
ate University of Pennsylvania, 1882; A. M., 1885; Ph. D., Johns Hop- 
kins, 1886; Fellow in Psychology 1885-6; in charge of the Psychologi- 
cal section World's Columbian Exposition, 1893; Author of various 
psychological subjects in leading magazines and of the book "Fact and 
Fiction in Psychology." Address: Madison, Wisconsin. 

— Prom ''Who's Who in America.'' 




I am requested to submit an opinion in regard to the status, espe- 
cially in relation to mental normality, of certain activities presented 
by Mr. Chaloner and of his attitude towards and his views concerning 
these manifestations. For the just interpretation of this opinion, it is 


to be carefully borne in mind tbat the determination of a State of 
insanity, or of mental irresponsibility or incapacity, is only to be 
reached by capable experts on the basis of a specific examination 
which shall set forth the symptoms, indications, and description of 
the particular form of mental derangement found in any given case. 
That task belongs primarily to experts in other branches of knowledge 
than that which I profess. My opinion as a psychologist is desired 
in regard to the significance and interpretation of certain mental 
peculiarities of the kind exhibited by Mr. Chaloner, and especially in 
regard to the measure and the manner in which such peculiarities 
may be pronounced to be manifestations of a normal mental activity. 
Mr. Chaloner according to his own account and in conformity with 
the evidence which has been submitted to me, exercises a form of 
automatic activity known as "Automatic Writing," and by some 
writers called "graphic automatism." He is able to produce, and ap- 
parently almost any time at request, a form of writing in which his 
intentional and usual control and direction participate to a reduced 
extent, and may be almost absent. Such automatic writing is a well 
recognized phenomenon occurring not rarely but yet unusually, and 
finds it place among a series of psychological activities, which are in 
largQ part of a complex, co-ordinated and reasoned type, but which 
are none the less not the intentional expression of the ordinary fully 
conscious thought. Even so common an experience as the unsuccess- 
ful attempt to recall a name, which suddenly comes to mind when the 
search has been apparently dismissed, may be regarded as the product 
of an automatic activity; for it is a result which we fail to reach in- 
tentionally but was worked out by some processes of which we are 
not fully conscious and cannot deliberately direct. If under such 
circumstances it were possible for an individual frequently to succeed 
in recalling the name by allowing his hand to write as it would, with- 
out exercising a direct guidance over its movements, it would be 
evident that the intelligence and ihe entire mental equipment that is 
represented in such automatic writing is the same as that of the indi- 
vidual's normal personality. That part of our mental machinery by 
which we succeed, though not by a direct effort, in recalling the sought 
for name, is obviously a part of our normal mental endowment. 

The degree to v/hich there exists such a possibility of permitting 
the less voluntary and conscious operations of our minds to express 
themselves in writing or otherwise, varies considerably among differ- 
ent individuals, as does also the degree of automatism or removal 
from intentional control characteristic of such expressions. The power 
to produce occasionally or frequently consistent and reasoned expres- 
sions by automatic writing, when considered in reference to the public 
at large, cannot be said to be a usual one, but is not to be regarded as 
a presumptive concomitant or indication of a mentally impaired or 
diseased condition. Professor James of Harvard University (Prin- 
ciples of Psychology, 1890, Vol. 1, p. 393), adopting for the sake of 


conyenience the term ''Mediumistic possession*" to indicate the kind 
of acrivitr here under consideration; says: that "the susceptibility to 
it in some form is by no means an uncommon gift in persons who 
have no other obvious nervous anomaly. The phenomena are very 
intricate, and are just beginning to be studied in a proper scientific 
way. The lowest phase of mediumship is automatic writing, and the 
lowest grade of that is when tlie Subject knows what words are coming, 
but feels impelled to write them as if from without/' (The words 
medium,"' "mediumship," "mediimiistic possession"' are here used, as 
also by Mr. Chaloner, not in acceptance of any belief in the theory 
with which the name originated, but simply as a convenient and in- 
telligent mode of referring to the phenomena.) I interpret this state- 
ment to mean that automatic writing is a less serious and less unusual 
divergence from the ordinary relations obtaining between our inten- 
tional and our automatic expressions that other forms of automatism, 
and furthermore, that this divergence is slightest when the subject's 
normal consciousness participates to a considerable extent in what is be- 
ing vrritten. Mr. Chaloner's automatic writing would accordingly be re- 
garded as of the type that diverges least from the usual; for according 
to his account he can at command check or stop the writing; although 
he cannot always initiate it, but must try and observe whether the 
hand will write or not. Moreover, he is entirely conscious of what he 
is writing, and the ordinary spectator would see nothing to distinguish 
between his normal and his automatic writing. It should also be noted 
that, in conformity with experience in other case, the automatic 
writing of ^Ir. Chaloner did not appear at once in a fluent and per- 
fected form, but was developed as the result of training and repetition 
extending over several years. My observation thus led me to conclude 
that 3ilr. Chaloner's automatic writing is the expression of a mental 
condition differing only in a very slight degree, and not in an easily 
recognizable manner, from his ordinary normal condition or the 
waking conscious condition of any normal individual. The expressijans 
of his automatic writing are consistent with, as indeed they are 
hardly less than, the expressions of his normal mentality — just as our 
characters and our views in dreams are for most persons consistent 
with, though at times diverging from, the character and views of 
-waking thought. 

Further opinions in support of the normal status of automatic 
writing are as follows: The Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology 
(edited by Professor Baldwin of Princeton University, 1901). says 
under the term Automatic Writing: "The name given to a form of 
writing that is recorded without the complete and conscious co-opera- 
tion of the individual who writes. It is an elaborate and conse-iuently 
less usual form of automatic movement which seems to be associated 
with obscure functional diseases of the nervous system (hysteria, 
etc.): but also occurs in persons who are healthy and entirely normal. 
but perhaps gifted with sensitive nervous organizations." Professor 


Newbold, of the University of Pennsylvania (Popular Science Monthly, 
XLIX;, 189, p. 509) says: "Automatic writing is an exceedingly com- 
mon phenomenon," and endorses the view that the degree of aa- 
tomatism is of minor order when the writing is involuntary, but 
depends upon the subject's consciousness. 

Professor Patrick, of the University of Iowa, clearly implies that 
the phenomenon is of frequent occurrence in normal persons by the 
following statement. (The Psychological Review, 1898, V., p. 559): 
"The thorough study of simple cases of automatic writing and of all 
forms of automatism in normal, healthy subjects is wholly practicable 
in the laboratory and certainly desirable." He further writes, "If we 
compare a simple case of automatic writing such as may be found in 
one of almost any company of school girls," etc. 

Professor Binet, of the University of Paris ("Alterations of per- 
sonality," Translation, 1896, p. 189) writes: "The interest of the phe- 
nomenon is still further increased by the frequency with v%-hich it 
occurs with spiritists and with normal subjects." And again: "In 
this way, as I have said before, the phenomena of automatic vvriting 
can be demonstrated with people who are non-hysterical; it is the 
exaggeration of the phenomenon that is peculiar to hysteria." 

Furthermore, experiments in automatic writing have been made 
upon normal subjects, in part upon university students, at Harvard 
University, the University of Iowa, the University of Pennsylvania, 
and probably elsewhere. 

I am accordingly of the opinion that the phenomena of automatic 
writing as exhibited by Mr. Chaloner are not only consistent with, but 
in the form exhibited by him, not prejudicial to a mental endowment 
and capacity falling within the range of individual variations, ordi- 
narily included under the normal. I am of the opinion that this power 
is to be looked upon as a mental peculiarity, which like many other 
peculiarities, forms a part of the individual endowment, and enters 
into the fundamental difference in organization between individuals. 
That this and allied kinds of automatism, particularly in their more 
marked and exaggerated forms occur most characteristically in hysteria 
and other nervous disorders is made clear by a survey of the literature 
of the topic. That in many cases of its occurrence in normal indi- 
viduals it is associated with a sensitive nervous organization, seems 
almost equally well established. 

Of the trance states which it appears Mr. Chaloner entered upon 
a few isolated occasions some years ago, I can judge only from his 
own description. I see no reason for viewing them in any other, light 
than the automatic writing — that is as phenomena indicative of a 
sensitive nervous organization finding their origin in the same obscure 
individual peculiarities, which make one person a somnambulist and 
another an automatic writer and a third a trance subject and lead to 
the noii-occurrence of any of these phenomena in the great mass of 
mankind. The trance state of the kind which Mr. Chaloner seems to 


have exhibited is probably to be regarded as a deeper stage of au- 
tomatism, that is, as a more serious deviation from the relation ordi- 
narily pertaining between the fully conscious and deliberate, and the 
automatic mental activities, than is the case in the automatic writing; 
and it was probably associated at the time with an irritable or fatigued 
condition of the general nervous system. 

With Mr. Chaloner's attitude towards these phenomena, his views 
in regard to their origin and nature, and his opinion in regard to re- 
lated phenomena, such as the significance of \ivid impressions and pre- 
sentments and the like, I have had opportunity to become acquainted 
by extended conversation, and by the perusal of extracts from his 
diary and from other sources. There is no widespread consensus 
among psychologists in regard to the most plausible theory of explana- 
tion or mode of accounting in detail for such phenomena as automatic 
writing; but there is a considerable preponderance of opinion in 
regard to their general relations to the activities of the mind and their 
dependence upon conditions of the nervous system; and I find that 
Mr. Chaloner's views though couched in different language and ex- 
hibiting no special appreciation of the complexities of the problem, 
are in their main trend quite compatible with the main trend of 
current scientific opinion upon the subject. In some respects his views 
would find endorsement in the recorded views of reputable writers 
upon these subjects; and in some respects (allowing for differences of 
expression and attitude, such as I should also have to take into con- 
sideration in a similar criticism of the views of some of my profes- 
sional colleagues) his views would be in accord with my own. Some 
of the views expressed by Mr. Chaloner I am inclined to regard as 
unwarranted by a close logical interpretation of the available data, 
and as incompatible with the attitude towards these phenomena which 
my own temperament and training and investigations lead me to 
favor; but this criticism would also apply to many professional psy- 
chologists occupying responsible positions; and the views to which I 
refer are certainly shared by a considerable part of intelligent and 
educated laymen who have formed convictions upon subjects of this 
type. In brief, I find Mr. Chaloner's attitude towards the psychological 
phenomena of a somewhat unusual nature which he has observed in 
himself to be in its general outlines a thoughtful and plausible one, 
and in all respects, including those points which do not meet with 
n.y personal endorsement, I have no hesitation in pronouncing his 
opinions to fall well within the ordinary and normal range of diversity 
of opinion current in such topics. Nor do I find in his attitude to- 
wards his opinions any characteristics which could not readily be dupli- 
cated among a miscellaneous group of normal, intelligent persons 
of training, education and attainment compatible to those which Mr. 
Chaloner enjoys. 

With regard to other traits of mind or temperament which Mr. 
Chaloner exhibits and which might be regarded as relevant to a dis- 


cussion of the compatibility with normality of his psychological pecu- 
liarities, I am of the opinion tnat their interpretation may be most 
justly reached in connection with an examination of his personal 
history and of his recognition of the significant symptoms of mental 

We shall now introduce the opinion of Dr. William James, Profes- 
sor of Psychology at Harvard. 


William James, Prof. Psychology, Harvard, since 1872; b. New 
York, Jan. 11, 1842; ed. in private schools, and by tutors, and at Law- 
rence Scientific School, 1861-3; M. D. Harvard, 1870, (LL. D. Prince- 
ton; Ph. et Litt. D., Padua; Correspondent de I'lnstitut, Paris); 
Author Principles of Psychology (2 vols.) ; Psychology; Briefer Course; 
The Will to Believe, and other Essays in Popular Philosophy. Apptd. 
Gifford lecturer on natural religion, Univ. of Edinburgh, 1899-1901. 
Address: Cambridge, Mass. 

— From ''Who's Who in America.'^ 

(Statement of Dr. William James. t.) 

Cambridge, Mass., Oct. 10, 1901. 
At the request of Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner, I have examined 
the following documents pertaining to his case: 

1. His certificate of lunacy: 

2. A distinguished neurologist's opinion. 

3. John Armstrong Chaloner's letter of July 3rd, 1897, to Hon. 
Micajah Woods. 

4. Letter of Nov. 30th, 1900, to H. L. Carson. 

5. Dr. Wood's account. 

6. Prof. Jastrow's opinion. 

7. Extract from John Armstrong Chaloner's Journal, etc. 

8. Autobiographic account: "The X-Faculty" (Head 1). 

9. "The X-Faculty" (Head 2). 

t Since deceased. 



:: -3e sigmKaL 

:t : 


raUe finiliantj 

mith sneb phe- 

5 ::^r: ii i-s^ 

--' ~- 

--- 1--:-^-:^- 

- -• • — 

V: ..:::-_ 

_ - . _ 

li-T 1 : 


- - : 

-- ::.-!- •:: 


------ =^ -— -"^ :'- 


; --- •- 


- -~ - 

: li-r 1:- - .-L 


- — -- 

-: :•: :.. 

- -- 



r _ .: r - . . _ - _ ^ , .• - 

- -- -" -.:----- ■- 

- ifi tn be yfamfMl 

^ _ -- ^ - - •- 

^ ; - — - --_-..--. 


s 11- 

-- ■" 

--'- -- --^--"^ 

" -'- 

■ - 


1 -- .-: _■;- 

~ -*" '■ ~ " — ■ fS 

_ . _ , , - - ^ . 

_ . . . . . . . ■ 



i;-::_-5 — i:-:iL 



;: :-:^-:-- - 

ii^-7-z :i - 

. . 

- _ ^ . - . 

. _ . . .... 


: : -'. - 

- --_:_ ,----:- 

. . 

----: Mi:-- 

-: _; - --- :: - 


i_ - _ 

l:i 1- 

■ -ZL ' i^ 5^Z1~ 

IS wmH appear 


:^E ::::-: :"; -; 


Zl^ zi~- 


■- ^' ^-"" --- 

- 1 1 r : . 11 - 1 ■ ~' '.' 1 


- -^ ■ 

~ : 

---115 :: -^ 1 

- - - - - - 

— - - - -— 

1"- :i :~ 

- .~/. 

y..'"'-7 -..\ "7. ^" 

.1 f 

- ~ _ - - : 

- ■ ■ 


^ - . ■ . _ . 

._..._ .; --,^ 

' 7": 

1 : ^ : - ' T 

. ■ ■ 

> -: --:. :i.: 

-!_:"- = - ■ 

. - - 

— . 

- --' 

.-11.1- -: 

-.self Tiili 
- -=anitv 


----- - 


c^ --_- 

- -- c- 


they are familiar, and a merely mediumistic subject may thus have 
grievous injustice done him. 

In delusional insanity there is also automatism, or "Paranoia" 
so-called, and mediumship have elements in common. But for Para- 
noia to be diagnosed there must be no distinct alteration between 
the primary and the "X" consciousness, and there must be marked 
abnormal peculiarities in the case as well as intellectual delusion. 
In Mr, Chaloner's case, there appears to have been complete alteration, 
and there is no sign whatever of delusion in the documents written 
by him which I have seen unless his belief that his eye-color has 
changed be counted as a delusion. Of his normal peculiarities only 
those who know him well can frame an opinion. A certain stiltedness of 
diction in documents 8 and 9 of my list is due, as he explains, to their 
automatic authorship. He doubtless wished to exhibit the rationality 
of his "X-Faculty," and has successfully done so. But it might have 
been wiser to submit a uon-automatic autobiography. So far then 
as the documents sent me acquaint me with the facts of the case, my 
opinion of Mr. Chaloner is that he is intellectually sound. No evidence 
to show his dangerousness to others or his inability to manage nis 
property has been shown me. In default of such evidence, further 
treatment of his as a lunatic would seem a crime." 


Hudson, Thomson Jay. Psychological Author and lecturer. Born, 
Windham, Ohio, Feb. 23, 1834. LL. D. St. John's College, Md. Ad- 
mitted to Bar 1857; practiced three years; author of "The Law of 
Psychic Phenomena." 

— From "Who's Who in America. 

To Whom It May Concern: 

Soon after the retirement of John Armstrong Chaloner from the 
Bloomingdale Asylum for the Insane, I was requested by his friends 
to visit him at his temporary retreat in Philadelphia with a view of 
obtaining my opinion as to his sanity. In compliance with that request 
I visited Philadelphia and had an interview^ with Mr. Chaloner lasting 
several hours, during which I made the most careful observations of 
which I was capable. I had previously been informed that his alleged 
mental alienation was supposed, hy those responsible for his detention 
in the insane asylum, to be manifested in his mental attitude on the 
subject of what is now known to science as Experimental Psychology. 
Having myself been a close student of every phase of that science for 
many years, and having observed the disastrous effects often result- 
ing from false beliefs on that subject, followed by abnormal practices 


on the experimental side, I confess thai I was not unprepared to find 
in Mr. Ghaloner almost any form or degree of mental alienation. Much 
to mv gratitude, however, I found in him a gentleman of superior gen- 
eral education, culture and refinement, and a student of Experimental 
Psvehology on purelv scientific lines, as I shall auempi to show here- 
inafter. Not, I hasten to say, that his deductions always agree with 
my own; for they do not. but that his fundamental inductions are on 
lines of scientifically dez:::i5:ra:lr TrMiii. 

The salient features of ::it ;': : = uon consistt in the fact thai he 
has made an original and in-ri iiiiTiit discovery of a most important 
psychological fact. In fact, it may be said to be the fundamental fact 
of psychologic-al science, since all other facts of psychology sustain a 
necessary relationship to it: and many of xhem are inexplicable in 
the absence of a knowledge of the fundamental fact or principle, that 
Mr. Chalcr-: iisrverei. 

It is z'z-i' I.:.-" is endowed with a mental faculty — or a longenes 
of mental :i : ::r= and powers — ^that lie below the threshold of normal 
consciousness. I do not say that Mr. Chaloner was the first discoverer 
of this fact; for I do not know the date of his discovery. Bur I have 
every reason to believe that he was an original and independent dis- 
coverer. It is true that many eminent scientists have, within the last 
decade, arriTed at the same c-onclusion, each by his own methods of 
investigation and exi>erimentatioiL Most of them have made their ex- 
periments on others: but one of the remarkable features of Mr. Chai- 
oner's method of research is that his conclusions were based wholly 
upon experiments made upon himself, toaether with an intelligent 0[> 
servation of the workings of his own inner conscioiisiirss. The advan- 
tages of tha: method are obvions to any i»ychologis:. providing the 
exper:iie-:er has sufficient power of self-control to do the work in- 

Another remarkable feature of Mr. Chaloner's c-ase, considered 
from a purely scientific point of view, is his conservatism or scientific 
caution. Most of us who have become convinced of the existence of 
the faculty in question have given it a name: and that name is more 
or less expressive of it's author's theory of causation. Thus, the Lion- 
dcn Society for Psychical Research, by its late president. Mr. F. W. H. 
Myers, has named it ''The Subliminal Consciousness.' as distinguished 
from the Supraliminal, or normal consciousness. Prof. Boris Sidis 
names it the 'Sub-waking Self." for obvious reasons. Prof. R. Osgood 
Mason, Fellow of the New York Academy of Medicine, calls it "the 
Subliminal Self." Prof. Quackenbos, late of Columbia College, calls it, 
indifferently, the "Sub-conscious mind," the "Subjective mind." the 
"TTnc-onscious mind." etc Dr. Du Prel. a German scientist, designates 
it "The Transcendental Ego.'' Other scientists, too numerous to men- 
tioiL have adopted other designations for the same mysterious attri- 
bute of mans mental organism. Each one has his own theory of 
Causation: but each bases his own particular menial philosophy 


largely upon the one salient fact, which no intelligent psychologist 
now denies; the existence of the faculty in every man's mental organ- 
ism. Mr. Chaloner, however, has exhibited the most commendable and 
rare as it is commendable, caution and scientific conservatism in the 
matter of terminology, by naming it "The X-Faculty;" for the obvious 
reason that "X" is the algebraic symbol for an "unknown quantity." 
This, cf course, implies no theory of causation whatever; but it does 
denote the doubt of the scientist who realizes that he has not yet accu- 
mulated sufficient data to enable him to formulate a satisfactory hy- 
pothesis. This fact alone is sufficient to establish a prima facie case 
of sanity; for the "cocksuredness" of the crank and the "infallibility" 
of the insane philosopher are proverbial. In a word, the very an- 
tithesis of insanity is the cautious conservatism of the inductive sci- 
entist. It is true that a man may be insane on one subject and per- 
fectly sane on others. But when, as in this case, the subject-matter 
upon which the alleged insanity is supposed to be manifested is iden- 
tical with that in which is exhibited the cautious conservatism of true 
science, it is obvious that the two states of mind are incompatible, 
and therefore impossible; for it involves a contradiction in terms. 
Manifestly a man cannot be sane and insane at the same time on the 
same subject; nor can the same attitude of mind on a given subject 
constitute valid evidence for both sanity and insanity. For my part 
I prefer to believe that scientific conservatism constitutes the best 
possible evidence of perfect sanity. 

It is, however, Mr. Chaloner's belief regarding the powers of the 
"X-Faculty" that are held to constitute the best evidence of his mental 
alienation. For instance, he has ascertained that w^hen the "X-Faculty" 
is allowed full play it is capable of performing various wonderful in- 
tellectual feats, far transcending the ability of the subject as mani- 
fested in his ordinary mental state, such as writing poetry, etc. This 
is another of Mr. Chaloner's discoveries in psychical science. It was 
doubtless original with him and the result of careful experimentation 
upon himself. At any rate he has demonstrated the fact by the pro- 
duction of a large number of sonnets, some of them of unusual merit. 
I have examined many of them, but am not prepared to say w^hether 
they transcend his normal abilities, as I know^ nothing of his natural 
capacity for writing poetrj;, if he has any. He tells me that he has 
none, which I can readily believe; for his experience is not unique. 
As before remarked the "X-Faculty" is well recog;nized under various 
designations by modern psychologists; and they have not failed to note 
its phenomenal manifestations in not only poetry, but in music and 
art. In fact, the wonderful intellectual feats which Mr. Chaloner mod- 
estly ascribes to the "X" or unknown faculty, is not a modern dis- 
covery. The old psychologists took note of them and speculated as- 
siduously thereon. Sir William Hamilton gives us many instances un- 
der the head of "latent memory;" and Abercrombie relates man?' won- 
derful cases as occurring under spontaneous "somnambulism." At that 


time hypnotism was practically unknown to science; but in modern 
times the same phenomena are reproduced artifically by means of ex- 
perimental hypnotism. Thus modern psychologists are not only able 
to classify the facts with some degree of definiteness, but they have 
learned the secret of controlling the "X-Faculty." 

In technical language the faculty is controlled by "suggestion," 
which is but another way of stating what 'Mr. Chaoner has discovered 
by experiment, that the subject can control it himself, and realizes that 
the "X-Paculty" is a part of his own mental equipment. It is the 
ignorance of this last mentioned fact that has led the laity into ascrib- 
ing it to spirits, demons, devils, "et hoc genus omne." It is note- 
worthy, and important to the appreciation of Mr. Chaloner's mental 
soundness, that he is not only aware that the ''X-:Paculty" is a part of 
man's mental make up, but he also knows that he can control its mani- 
festations at will. 

This, in fact, is the most important factor in his case; for it is 
not only demonstrative of his scientific acumen and his entire accord 
with the trend of modern science, but it is a sure guaranty of con- 
tinued mental soundness on this question. Not that any particular 
belief or opinion is, "per se," demonstrative of mental soundness, or 
its opposite conclusive, or even presumptive evidence of sanity; but 
that one's belief on this particular subject may, and often does, lead 
to practices that result in mental alienation. Thus, an ignorant lay- 
man enters a spiritualistic circle and evelops "mediumship," say in 
the form of automatic writing; or, as Mr. Chaloner has more scien- 
tifically designated it, "graphic automatism." The layman's medium- 
istic development is merely the development of the "X-Faculty." He 
believes in spiritism, and all the members of his circle believe in spirit- 
ism, and this constitutes a "suggestion" to the "X-Intelligence," too 
strong to be resisted, that the expected manifestations will come from 
spirits. Being controlled by that domintnt suggestion, it acts accord- 
ingly, the automatic writing which follows, purports to come from the 
spirits suggested or called for. 

Now the danger which is imminent in such a case arises from the 
automatist's belief that he is controlled by an extraneous intelligence. 
He believes it to be a superior intelligence, and hence yields himself 
in passive obedience to its guidance. And it guides him just in accord- 
ance with his own characteristics, be they good or bad. If good, he 
is comparatively safe; but if bad, and he is naturally not well belanced 
mentally, he is in imminent danger of mental alienation. Our mad- 
houses are full of illustrative examples. Now this is but the result of 
a belief that he is dominated by an extraneous, irresponsible agency 
which it is impossible for him to resist or control. 

It is obvious that Mr. Chaloner is beset by no such danger. 

He, too, has developed the "X-Faculty;" and it performs its in- 
tellectual feats by "graphic automatism." Thus far the parallel is 
perfect. But he has studied the subject inductively— scientifically ; 


and he knows that the "X-Faculty" is not an extraneous intelligence, 
capable of dominating his whole mental and physical organism. He 
has, by a series of experiments of the most remarkable character, and 
conducted on the most exact scientific lines, demonstrated that the 
"X-Faculty" is simply a heretofore submerged part of his own mental 
organism, and that as such, it is under the domination of his own will 
and reason. He has learned that he can cultivate its powers, control 
its output, direct its energies, and restrain its eccentricities. Obvi- 
ously he is not insane, nor is he in any danger of insanity, on the 
subject of the "X-Faculty;" and he is not held to be insane on any 
other subject. 

In conclusion I might truthfully remark that this is not the first 
time in the history of advancing civilization that men have been im- 
prisoned for taking a step in advance of their age in scientific research. 
But in justice to all concerned, it must be said that a legitimate par- 
allel cannot be drawn between this case and those of history, where 
criminal prosecutions have been instituted against scientists who were 
accused of subverting religion and blaspheming against the Deity by 
seeking to place Creation in the custody of a law. This is not a crimi- 
nal prosecution, although it deprived Mr. Chaloner of his liberty just 
as effectually as if he had been charged with high crimes and mis- 
demeanors. But it must not be forgotten that the phenomena produced 
by the mental force which Mr. Chaloner has designated as the "X- 
Faculty," has puzzled and appalled mankind since the dawn of creation. 
It is the source of all the superstitions of all the ages of mankind. 
Ignorance of its laws, nay, of its very existence as an attribute of the 
human mind, has been the direct or indirect cause of the greater part 
of the mental alienation, which has filled the insane asylums of the 
civilized world. Hence it is that cautious and conservative people 
view with alarm any attempt, on the part of their friends, to meddle 
with any of its multiform phases of phenomena. 

But the science of the last decade of the Nineteenth Century has 
lifted the veil of mystery which has so long enshrouded the "X-Fac- 
ulty," and shorn it of its power to harm those w^ho have penetrated 
the secret. It is axiomatic that when an ignorance of Nature's laws 
leads one into danger, a knowledge of those laws will lead to safety. 
This knowledge Mr. Chaloner possessed. But his friends who did not 
share his information were not in a position to discriminate between 
the insensate rashness of ignorance and the intelligent deliberations 
of science, so long as the subject matter was the same. It would seem, 
therefore, that Chaloner's imprisonment was due to the over-anxiety 
and caution of friends who were not in a position to appreciate or 
understand the real nature of his scientific investigations. 

Of his perfect sanity I have no doubt whatever. 
Respectfully submitted, 

Detroit, Michigan, 

Oct. 19, 1901. 



After carefully re-reading my opinion in re the case of John Arm- 
strong Chaloner, it has occurred to me that possibly the opinion of 
his friends regarding his sanity may have been formed from witness- 
ing his experiments upon himself in the development of the "X-Fac- 
ulty." If so, a very erroneous opinion was almost inevitable, owing 
to the eccentric character of the manifestations of the "X-Faculty" in 
the early stages of its experimental development. This is vvell-known 
to all experimental psychologists who develop the "X-Faculty" in their 
subjects by means of hypnotism. Hypnotists, however, can easily regu- 
late the phenomenal manifestations by well-known means. But an 
unrestrained hypnotized subject, acting, say, under the influence of a 
false, or a grotesque suggestion, would inevitably be considered in- 
sane by any one not informed of the secret self; and had not there- 
fore, the benefit of a restraining of his mental condition. 

Now, Mr. Chaloner, made his experiments upon himself; and had 
not, therefore, the benefit of a restraining or regulating, agency at his 
side. Consequently, it is easy to see that in his early experiments, he 
may have, accidentally or purposely, produced mental phenomena 
that would be very alarming to those of his friends who were not in 
the secret of his experimental research. In other words, he may have 
occasionally surrendered himself temporarily to the dominance of the 
"X-Faculty," for the purpose of studying its powers, its peculiarities, 
and its limitations. In fact it would have been impossible for him to 
thoroughly inform himself on all these points without experimenting 
with every phase of the phenomena. That he did so experiment, and 
that in the meantime he exercised the most remarkble powers of self- 
control and reason when in his normal condition, is evidenced by the 
logical and scientific character of his final conclusions regarding that 
wonderful and mysterious faculty with which he was experimenting. 

T. J. H. 


Chapter I. 

(Richmond Virginian, August 12, 1912.) 


While in Mediumistic Trance Receives Message From World Beyond. 


Warned hy Friend Against Scoffing He G-ives it Out for What it is 


With the sensational announcement that he had recently held 
converse with the spirit of a departed friend, now in Hell, and that 


he was prepared to give to the world some insight into the conditions 
existing in that unknovm realm, John Armstrong Chaloner yesterday 
gave to the Virginian the prepared interview with which he startled 
the coterie of newspaper men whom he had invited to meet him yes- 
terday afternoon at Alexandria in order that he might outline the 
nature of the campaign to which he proposes to devote his life and 

Mr. Chaloner made good his promise to explain his plans for the 
reformation of the lunacy laws, and then very gravely sprang the un- 
expected sensation. The alleged message from the spirit world was 
transmitted by automatism to him while in an involuntary medium- 
istic trance a few nights ago. The spirit which established communi- 
cation with him was that of Thomas Jefferson Miller, once a non- 
commissioned officer in the Confederate navy, a member of the Man- 
hattan Club, New York, and a personal and club friend of Mr. Chaloner's 
prior to his incarceration in Bloomingdale Asylum. 

Mr. Chaloner explained that he was an "O. K. medium," so pro- 
nounced by the late Professor James and others, as court records at 
Charlottesville would show, and at the same time he was an unbeliever 
in and a scoffer at spiritualism; in short, that his sub-consciousness, 
or X-Faculty, as he terms it — held communication with spirits against 
his will. He said that the spirit of his old friend Miller had held 
converse with him five years ago, and he took no notes of the message 
because of his absolute lack of faith in spiritualism. He has no more 
faith now than he had then, but he stated his belief that the "alleged 
spirit message," as he termed it, should be given to the world on its 




Release by wire. • "The Merry Mills," 


August 2, 1912. 
Deab Sir: 

On the 25th of last month I happened to pick up an "Illustrated 
London News" of June 15th last, and saw under the headline "Science 
Jottings," by Andrew Wilson, sin article concerning reputed — to cite — 
"So-called spiritualistic communications purporting to emanate from 
the late Mr. W. T. Stead, who perished on the 'Titanic' The result 
as usual has been nil. What has been done is that certain 'mediums' 
professed to put themselves in communication with the deceased jour- 
nalist. In their supposed trance state they assert that he received 
messages from him. Anything more puerile than the supposed com- 
munications it has never been my lot to peruse. Mr. Stead is reported 


to have told his friends that he was quite free, but not yet attuned 
to the easy and perfect sending of messages. Later on it was hoped 
things would improve in this respect. It is tolerably certain the vast 
bulk of us have not so far lost our grip of common sense as to accept 
such rubbish as evidence of another world's existence. Hus there ever 
heen sent or given a 'spirit-message' which has laid before mankind any 
great fact or truth connected with the hereafter? Has any 'spirit' re- 
vealed to us what all of us are devoutly anxious to know something 
definite about — namely, the nature of that after-state of being which 
forms so prominent a feature of the Christian faith? You have igno- 
rant persons posing as 'mediums'' publishing forth their ability to com- 
municate With the spirits of those who have gone before, and making 
a travesty of certain of the most sacred of our emotions and beliefs. 
Well may a writer in scathing terms speak of these people to whom 
death has no sacredness, and who treat the great mysteries of the uni- 
verse as if they were trivialties of the first order: 'But when we come 
to real instruction, reliable information, or profitable or valuable knowl- 
edge, Spiritualism is as barren as Sahara, as empty as a hollow g;ourd.' 
We are reminded of the Mrs. Pipers, and other mediums whose per- 
formances, wonderful certainly, are still enveloped in a>kind of mental 
fog. At the very best, I repeat, neither Mrs. Piper nor any other me- 
dium has ever shed any light on any of the great problems of the after- 
state, such as humanity has day by day to face." (Signed) Andrew 

On pages 81-84 of "Four Years Behind the Bars of 'Blooming- 
dale,' " written by me, in the Congressional Library, you will find that 
so far back as October 10th, 1901, Professor Willian^ James, of Har- 
vard, (now deceased), pronounced me a medium, in aii opinion in 
favor of my sanit^^ in my trial, on said subject of sanity before the 
Albemarle County, Virginia County {now Circuit) Court, November 
6th, 1901, and on file ever since in the Clerk's Office of said court, in 
Charlottesville, Virginia. Professor James went on to say — page 83, 
ibid — "but whereas most mediums promptly adopt the theory current 
in spiritualistic circles, Mr. Chaloner prepossessed against that hy- 
pothesis, appears to have set to work systematically, and, as would 
appear from his narrative" (by which "narrative" is meant a letter 
from me together with certain specimens of graphic automatism — 
automatic writing — made by me ii^a trance-like state and submitted 
to him by mail for his opinion on the rationality of said trance- 
writings) "critically, to explore them an^ determine their significance 
for himself. In this attempt he seems to me to deserve nothing but 
praise., The most injudicious act of which he is accused is the expe- 
riment with fire. As described, its motivation was rational and its 
results interesting and but moderately harmful. It seems to me a 
monstrous claim to say that a man may not make experiments, even 
as extreme as that upon his own person without putting his legal free- 
dom in jeopardy. The Napoleon experiment falls strictly within the 


limits of praiseworthy research. Psychology would be more advanced, 
were there more subjects of Automatism (mediumship) ready to ex- 
plore carefully their eccentric faculty. Although the medical profes- 
sion is beginning to acquaint itself with these phenomena, it is still 
lamentably ignorant, for in Spiritualistic circles these automatisms are 
regarded as valuable gifts, to be encouraged rather than checked, and 
asylum doctors hardly ever see them. Specialists in insanity are par- 
ticularly ignorant. When they do see them they may interpret them 
as delusional insanity, with which they are familiar, and a merely 
mediumistic subject may thus have grievous injustice done him. So 
far then as the documents sent me acquaint me with the facts of the 
case, my opinion of Mr. Chaloner is that he is intellectually sound. 
No evidence to show his dangerousness to others or his inability to 
manage his property has been shown me. In default of such evidence, 
further treatment of him as a lunatic would seem a crime." (Signed) 
William James, Cambridge, Mass., October 10th, 1901. 

Since Professor James, who, by the way, besides being Professor of 
Psychology at Harvard, was also a member of the medical profession, 
having taken his M. D. degree at Harvard in 1870, practically discov- 
ered Mrs. Piper, the well-known medium aforesaid, of Boston, and also 
discovered your humble servant as a medium — ivho doesn't heJieve in 
Spiritualism, however, — as shown above, and since so well known a 
scientific writer as Andrew Wilson, who for years has handled the 
scientific column for so great a paper as the "Illustrated London New^s" 
speaks favorably of said Mrs. Piper as a medium, therefore it is not a 
far cry to infer that I am "some punkins" of a medium myself — to 
put it somewhat jucularly. Such being the case it occurred to me — 
after reading said article in the "Illustrated London News" — that it 
might not be a bad idea to*follow up a lead I had got from my 
"X-Faculty" — my term for thei Sub-consciousness — some years ago, 
when experimenting in Experimental Psychology by means of Vocal 
Automa'tism. Said lead or tip was nothing less than an alleged "spirit- 
message," as Andrew Wilson calls it in said article, from a deceased 
friend of mine, who had died a few years previously. Said "spirit- 
message" was startling to a degree; and left strictly nothing to be 
desired regarding an alleged reve]fition of life beyond the grave. Said 
deceased friend was about 80 years old at the time of his demise and 
a prominent member, at said time, of a prominent New York Club. He 
was my oldest and best friend. I had never suggested his communi- 
cating with me in the event 'of his death before mine for the excel- 
lent reason that I did not think such a thing possible. • 

Imagine then my surprise upon receiving per ♦Vocal Automatism, 
while in a trance-like state — in which state I have for over fifteen years 
carried on my investigations in Experimental Psychology — imagine my 
surprise upon getting a so-to-speak wireless message from Hell! For 
that was where my friend said he was at said time. 

I shall not attempt to picture my surprise ; let it suffice to say that 
my scientific curiosity was piqued. 


;"t it rather 
-:i:e and 

to r^ee- 



rlhetT-efr.-- ■^- 

Ai I ^o§>GM^ mkUk tA€ GJM^geA ^pkrit 

r : 1— anpied to reopen eommiiiil 

. 1 :- AntoanE' i ;^i — I i r :: 1 t i " : - — ; . : 


P. S.— In pfottii^ ''reiease 1^ wire,^ at tlie top of this letter. I 

loe^ii tbat yoa gentlemen may rrfease the storr npcm seeing me at 
^"ri: z-xt Sunday eTemng^ 

did not eateh wp with Holt, J^ and make 

ins tus Honor before the Jndidarr CcMn- 

?f»«ipntatrres. on accoont of his Honoor's 

s that, as it happened, there was an 

3e impeadnnent. and conseqnaitlT be- 

" :t had resigned from the Ben<^ 





John Armstrong Chaloner Gives Interview Relative to Lunacy Laws, 
and Describes Reception Room of His Satanic Majesty. 

(Washington Herald, August 5, 1912.) 

"John Armstrong Chaloner, famous for that immortal expression 
of "Who's Looney Now?" former husband of Amelia Rives and brother 
of Sheriff Bob Chanler, who married Lina Cavalieri, disclosed yester- 
day a message that he says he has received from the other world. 

The message brings news of the physical characteristics of his 
Satanic majesty and a description of Hades that at least has the merit 
of being unique. The message received by Chaloner comes, he insists, 
from Thomas Jefferson Miller, a former Confederate officer, and mem- 
ber of the Manhattan Club of New York City. 

Chaloner, who was born "Chanler," and who changed his name 
because of the alleged plot against him by his brother, "Sheriff Bob,'* 
of New York, and other relatives, summoned the newspaper corres- 
pondents across to the Virginia side of the Potomac because he "didn't 
dare come north of the Old Dominion line." 

Chaloner was adjudged insane in New York State, escaped from 
Bloomingdale Asylum, and was then declared sane by the Virginia 
courts. He is afraid that if he leaves Virginia he will be nabbed and 
sent back to Bloomingdale. 

"Last month," said the former husband of Amelie Rives, the 
novelist, "I picked up a copy of an English illustrated paper and saw 
therein an account of a supposed spirit communication with W. T. 
Stead, who went down on the Titanic. The statement while essentially 
puerile, attracted my attention because the late Prof. William James 
had informed me at one time that I was a medium, although I do not 
believe in spiritualism." 

Message from Hell. 

Chaloner went on the say that he had summoned his art of 
"graphic automatism," and had managed to get in touch with the 
spirit of Thomas Jefferson Miller, with whom he had been friendly 
when Miller was f this world. ^ 

"This," said Chaloner, was last Tuesday evening, "Miller, or 
whatever force it was, immediately replied through my hand and 
wrote a lengthy statement, answering my queries and giving much 
information in regard to his present abode, which he said was Hell, 

Here the brother-in-law of Lina Cavalieri read a sixteen-page 
typewritten statement, giving in full the interview with the disem- 


bodied spirit. It took eight hours for him to transcribe the message, 
with short intervals for food and sleep. It was mighty exhausting 

According to the message that Chaloner gives to the world, Hell 
was a very bearable place and one which everybody- must pass through. 
Miller admitted to his former friend that he had been bad enough 
on earth to merit more punishment than he had received, but con- 
sidered that his relief was probably due to the fact that he had had 
"his share of Hell on earth, being a New Yorker with social standing 
and no money." 

Satax Rese:mbles Xapoleox. 

The message handed out by Chaloner describes Satan as a man 
of medium height, whose face is that of Napoleon Bonaparte at the 
apex of his power, and whose habiliments were those of Michaelangelo's 
statue, "The Thinker." His Satanic Majesty was seated on a throne 
in the center of an immense audience chamber. 

"The walls of this audience chamber," says the message recorded, 
"are of rubies. The rubies are the size of ordinary building bricks, 
and of the luster and fire of rubies known as pigeon blood. In place 
of mortar binding the bricks and making a vvhite line, we here have 
diamonds as large as your thumb nail and of the purest water. To 
soften and enrich the fiery effect of such splendor, the diamond line 
is broken every few inches by several inches of sapphires, as blue as 
the Mediterranean. The floor of the hall is of marble, that has the 
marvelous quality of being capable of taking on the color of whatever 
stands upon or flies over it. Thus, if a cherubim flies over the floor 
space, the marble at once becomes tinged with red. If, on the other 
hand, a seraphim crosses the space, the marble at once becomes of a 
cerulean blue, like an Italian sky. The marble takes on these colors 
from the armor and vestments of the mighty angels, which are scarlet 
and blue, respectively." 

Bloodhounds Spoil Dream. 

At this point, the message was interrupted by the baying of Mr. 
Chaloner's bloodhounds outside, who, he thinks, sensed the subcon- 
scious communication. However, the roof, Chaloner learned, is of 
crystal, so pure that the eye can pierce it. 

At the end of the message, Chaloner himself records the following 
notes: "Knocked off for breakfast. Bread and water." 

Mr. Chaloner anticipated his coming from near Cobham, Va.. by 
writing a letter to the Washington correspondents and others, in 
which he told them of a conversation he had held with Miller, who 
had spoken to him in the early hours of the morning of July Stst last, 
from Hell, and of conversations which they had had in the Manhattan 
Club. This, he said, had convinced him that he could communicate 
with the dead while in a "Napoleonic" death trance. 


Chajloner Reads Statement. 

This statement was read by Mr. Chaloner, and was a most remark- 
able affair. It embraced twelve and a fraction typewritten pages. 
Mr. Chaloner stated that he wrote it in long hand while in a state of 
subconsciousness. He declared that "he did not believe a damn word 
of it," after he had completed its reading: 

In order to accomplish his ends Mr. Chaloner said he would go 
to Alexandria at various times and put his case as thoroughly before 
the American people as did Zola in the Dreyfus case. "I am," he 
said, "going to hammer on it and hammer on it, and talk them to 
death and write them to death, and make it a common household 
word throughout the forty-eight States and Territories of this Union. 
I am going to bombard these gangsters of the '400' in Xew York until 
I make them sick for what they have done." He declared that the 
New York district courts would not give him justice until he had 
created a popular sentiment for himself. 

Mr. Chaloner characterized his case as a "blue blood" conspiracy. 
He said John G. Milburn and Joseph H. Choate were so powerful that 
nc Federal judge of the low^er courts would dare go against them. "I 
am after public opinion to keep the judges straight," he said. He 
made reference to his impeachment charges against Judge George C. 
Holt, of New York, w-ho, he said, had refused to permit a jury to hear 
his affidavit begun in Charlottesville in October of last year, and ended 
in January of the present year. He charged Judge Holt with being 
"an insurrecto against the rules which govern all civilized courts." 

Name, New York, Stixks. 

Asked if he would go back to New York were he to gain his vic- 
tory, Mr. Chaloner declared he was indifferent to ever going there. 
"I don't care," he said, "ever to set foot there again. It has got too 
horrible an association of ideas for me. The name of New York 
stinks to me for a place to live in. I have as much dread of the 
wickedness there, not only on the East Side, but on Fifth Avenue, as 
Russian Jews have of a murder car." 

Mr. Chaloner denounced the lunacy laws of most of the States as 
villainous. In Washington they were "bum." In Baltimore and Phila- 
delphia and New^ Jersey worse still, "and in New" York they are simply 
parallel with hell." He said he took his life in his hands when he 
went to Washington recently and conferred with a Congressman about 
Judge Holt's impeachment. It was his purpose, he said, to reform 
these lunacy laws of the country in accordance w^ith an oath he had 
taken while a patient at Bloomingdale. He was fully prepared, he 
said, to wear Congress and the public out "until I make one of them 
ashamed of themselves for being parties to such a damnable state of 
lawlessness, tj^ranny, and dishonesty which is rife to-day in nearly 
50 per cent, of the States of the Union." 


These laws, he held, would be a disgrace to the Cong;o under the 
enlightened rule of the late King Leopold of Belgium. 

Arriving at the office of the Alexandria Gazette building at a few 
minutes after 4 o'clock Mr. Chaloner took exactly two hours and 
twenty minutes to tell his story to the scribes. The story of his 
alleged conversation with a deceased friend while in a state of sub- 
conciousness was related after he had gotten through his other talk. 

Wears Plain, Clothes. 

As soon as Mr. Chaloner reached the office in a carriage from the 
union railway station, he entered and announced himself after which 
he began his work of bombarding the New York authorities for his 
incarceration in Bloomingdale for a period of four years. 

Mr. Chaloner talked with vim and at times he emphasized his 
remarks upon his auditors by clapping his hands together. 

Mr. Chaloner, for a millionaire, was not clad very pompously, 
wearing but plain clothing. He wore a blue serge coat and waistcoat, 
and dark trousers, and carried with him a light overcoat with velvet 
collar, and he also had rubbers in a small suit case, the latter con- 
taining books which he has written. The nature of some of these 
books was explained by him during the course of the interview. Before 
sitting down he placed behind him a heavy looking black wallet which 
he said was for his spine, he having suffered from spinal trouble as 
a result of his incarceration in Bloomingdale. Mr. Chaloner used this 
for a rest for his spine and then began to unfold his story. 

In addition to the newspaper men was Prof. Helmut P. Holler, 
President of the Washington Psychological Society, who had a confer- 
ence with Mr. Chaloner. At the conclusion of his interview Mr. Chal- 
oner left for Richmond. 

Chaloner' s Description of Hell. 

"The walls are of rubies of the size of ordinary building bricks, 
and of the lustre and fire of rubies known as »pigeon blood. In place of 
mortar binding the bricks and making a white line, we have diamonds 
as large as your thumb-nail and of the purest water. To soften and 
enrich the fiery effect of such splendor the diamond line is broken 
every few inches by sapphires as blue as the Mediterranean. The floor 
of the hall is of marble that has the marvelous quality of being capable 
of taking on the color of whatever stands upon or flies over it. Thus, 
if a cherubim flies over the floor space, the marble at once becomes 
tinged with red. If, on the other hand, a seraphim crosses the space, 
the marble at once becomes of a cerulean blue^ like an Italian sky. 
The marble takes on the colors from the armor and vestments of the 
mighty angels, which are scarlet and blue, respectively." 



••Tbe volume is a wonderful work as books go, and its title repre- 
sents adequately its (.-ontents." — Richmond "Xcicti Leaded," October 28, 

"This last work of Mr. Chaloner is literature. 

John Milton has not got much in the way of word painting on 
John Armstrong Chaloner and Thomas Jefferson Miller, when they 
get together, over the long distance. 

The author may rest assured that his book will be read." 

— Richmond Evening Journal, October 30, 1912. 


The Author of ''Who's Looney Now" Writes a Red-Hot Book. 

John Armstrong Chaloner has just written a book entitled "Hell," 
which he dclares is an account of his study in graphic-automatism. 
The book, which is dedicated to Dante, John Milton and John Bun- 
yan, described as the author's "illustrious predecessors in this dread 
domain," tells in weird and picturesque language the experiences in 
Hell of one Miller, a former friend of the author, from whom Mr. 
Chaloner received the messages by means of what he calls The X- 
Faculty. Mr. Chaloner has opened up a new, if somewhat red-hot. 
field of modern literature. — Times-Dispatch, October 30, 1912. 

Not a Bad Sort of Place at All, According to Mr. Chaloner. 

It might be more reassuring for those interested in knowing what 
sort of place is reserved for the wicked after death if John Arm- 
strong Chaloner had been permitted to describe more than merely 
the Audience Chamber of his Satanic Majesty. The picture which he 
gives us of this room, with its walls of rubies, diamonds and sap- 
phires, is attractive enough, yet doubt is allowed to linger as to the 
furnishings and other appurtenances of the living-rooms of the 
transient and permanent guests. 

According to the message which Chaloner gives the world from 
his former friend, the Infernal Regions would seem to be a very 
tolerable place in which to live. At any rate, the precious stones 
which ornament the Audience Chamber of the Prince of Darkness 
would seem to give to that place very much the same aspect ascribed 
to heaven, with its pearly gates and streets of gold. 

The floor of marble that has the quality of taking on the color 
of whatever stands upon or flies over it is another interesting touch 
in the vision. With cherubs and seraphs flitting back and forth. 


changing the color alternately to red and blue, a kaleidoscopic effect 
is no doubt produced that would be ^Y0^th going far to see. 

It is disappointing not to be told more about this interesting 
place. The glimpse into the Audience Chamber, with Satan presiding 
and looking like Napoleon Bonaparte at the apex of his power, cries 
out for another and completer picture. But perhaps Mr. Chaloner 
intends to give us this in time, even if he has to go there for it. — 
San Francisco (Cah) Chronicle, August 6, 1912. 

John Armstrong Chaloner's vision of Hell, with an Audience 
Chamber built of rubies, diamonds and sapphires, is quite different 
from the picture Dante gave us. However, it may be a true one. 
It would be Hell to see all these things and not be able to have 
any of them. - 


Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner disarms the skeptical who would 
pooh-iX)oh his revelation of Hell. Some one called the world over his 
wires and said Satan looked like Napoleon Bonaparte, that his resi- 
dence was a marble, rubies and diamonds, and that the place would 
be a relief to any man who had been trying to maintain a social 
position ui New York without money. 

That's the message that came via Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner. 
As a medium he is neither skeptical nor credulous. A genuine medium 
is merely a cosmic telephone wire. Mr. Chaloner does not guarantee 
the good faith of the person on the other end. He thinks it was 
Thomas Jefferson Miller, but it may have been Artemus Ward, or 
Mark Twain, or William James, who said he would send back a mes- 
eage if there were any way of doing it. 

That Hell would have no terrors for a man who had been broke 
in New York has been suspected — confidently declared in some in- 
stances — and if Mr. Chaloner's message is confirmation of the idea it 
will cause no particular sensation. The most interesting part of the 
revelation is that Satan looks like Napoleon. That explains the notion 
prevailing in Europe that the head devil was absent from his do- 
main about 1769 to 1S21.— Chicago (//?.) Trihiine, August 6, 1912. 


According to a spirit message, John Armstrong Chaloner has re- 
cr-ived from a former friend on earth, "the walls of Hell are of 
rubies the size of building bricks, and the lustre and fire of rubies 
known as pigeon blood. In place of mortar binding the bricks and 
making a white line, we have diamonds as large as your thumb-nail 
and of the purest water. To soften and enrich the fiery effect of 
such splendor the diamond line is broken every few inches by sap- 


phires as blue as the Mediterranean." Persons who contemplate going 
to the place which Chaloner has so prettily described, should take 
with them a complete equipment ot mining implements. — islew Orleans 
{La.) States, August 8, 1912. 

John Armstrong Chaloner claims to have communicated with a 
New Yorker in Hell. KinscUy note that "New Yorker." — Columbia (S. 
C.) State.— Neic York TrWune, August 9, 1912. 

John Armstrong Chaloner, always interesting and sometimes 
unique, has learned that "Satan is a gentleman." H — m: he has to 
be to get away with it. — Neiv York Telegraph, August 6, 1912. 


New York, January, 1914. 
To old New Yorkers — there are a few left — Fifth Avenue occasion- 
ally becomes a ghostly haunt of the departed. Among the latter is a 
man who dematerialized and then reincarnated. Formerly known as 
Chanler, now he is Clialoner. But, in the interim, he went not to 
heaven but to Bloomingdale. And why not? Besides, any excursion 
is valuable if it deepen your experience of, life. Now, here he is again 
and very humanly in the shape of a document.. Entitled Scorpio, it 
is a shandigjaff of prose and verse. Usually such things are inoffen- 
sive specimens of harmless literature. But not Scorpio. Richepin 
wrote a breviary that was like an explosion of Roman candles. He 
also wrote a hymnal that was so many doors slammed in your face. 
Richepin, though a member of the French Academy, a membership 
which usually is a patent of incapacity, had something to say and 
knew how to say it. In piety and truculence this thing of Mr. Chal- 
oner's equals Richepin's wares. In commenting on an earlier per- 
formance, a critic called the author a literary bruiser. Previously 
the Supreme Court had adjudged him insane. Well, with entire defer- 
ence, it does seem a pity that there are not more lunatics like him 
and also that on the buttered toast of our literature there is so little 
anchovy paste. 


New York, January, 1914. 
I have been deeply moved recently by some verses of Mr. John 
Armstrong Chaloner's, who has just published a slender volume of 
sonnets called "Scorpio." The following lovely little lyric will tell its 
own message without prosaic comment on my part. 



"^Tien our appointed sands shall run their course. 

When in life's brief hour-glass none doth remain, 

When death's mysterious river we must cross, 

The following thoughts may ease the Soul her pain: 

Death the Angel is of all activity 

The ''"open sesame" to action rare — 

The quick'ning of a new nativity 

In a world vrhich is as dreadful as it's fair. 

The bones do rest, the dust doth rest. T'h.ey rest. 

But the Spirit — that which sprang from God's bright Thron( 

The Spirit which His breath gives life and zest. 

The Spirit thro" eternity goes on: 

Tomb the portal is to Hell or Paradise — 

Purgatory is Hell and versa vice. 


By John Armstrong Chaloner. 

Keats has told us that "they shall be accounted poet-kings 
who simply say the most heart-easing things?" It may well 
be, therefore, that the author of the present volume of son- 
nets has no desire to be ranked among the poet-kings. For he 
certainl}^ does not come to us with heartsease in his hand. On 
the contrary he prides himself on the fact that he is a hard 
and terrible hitter. Indeed^ he assures us that he has come 
to the conclusion that you can put a wicked man "to sleep" 
with a sonnet in pretty much the same way that a prize- 
fighter puts his opponent to sleep with a finished blow. And 
not only does Mr. Chaloner believe in what we may term the 
sonnetorial fist, but he believes also in whips and scorpions, 
for the cover of his book is decorated with an angry-looking 
seven- thronged scourge, and he dubs the whole effort "Scor- 
pio." So that when we look to the fair page itself we know 
what to expect. 

Nor are we disappointed. Mr. Chaloner goes to the opera. 
Being a good poet, he immediately writes a sonnet about it, 
the which, however, he calls "The Devil's Horseshoe." We 
reproduce it for the benefit of all whom it may concern : 

*A fecund sight for a philosopher — 

Rich as Golconda's mine in lessons rare — 

That gem-bedizen'd "horse-shoe" at th' Opera, 

Replete with costly hags and matrons fair! 

His votaresses doth Mammon there array, 

His Amazonian Phalanx dread to face! 

To Mammon there do they their homage pay! 

Spang'ld with jewels, satins, silks and lace. 

Crones whose old bosoms in their corsets creak; 

Beldams whose slightest glance would fright a horse; 

Ghouls — when they speak one hears the grave-mole squeak 

Their escorts parvenus of feature coarse, 

A rich array of Luxury and Vice! 

But, spite of them, the music's very nice.' 

"Here you have whips, scorpions, and a knockout blow 
with a vengeance. The sonnet as a whole is not one which we 


can approve from a technical or sentimental point of view, 
but it has points. Henley might have plumed himself on that 
line about the creaking corsets, and the last line, a tour de 
force ^ in its way reminds us of the withering ironies of Byron. 
It is only fair to Mr. Chaloner to add that not all his sonnets 
are concerned with back-flaying, bosom-stinging, or general 
thumping. Some of them show the tenderer emotions proper 
to a poet. We like him best, however, in his character as 
metrical bruiser. He is always on the side of the angels even 
if he is frequently OA'er vigorous: and his book is well worth 
possessing. We gather that he has undergone personal trou- 
bles of no light or of ordinary nature, and it is pleasant to 
note that, despite these troubles, he still retains a sane and 
reasonable outlook upon life, for when he likes he can be 
quite pleasantly humorous instead of acridly bitter. — The 
Academy^ London^ August 8, 1908. 



As a playwright the writer is well aware that nothing should be 
set upon the boards which is not applicable to real life; by which is 
meant, which might not have taken place in real life. We are well 
aware that the happenings in "Robbery Under Law" are above the 
level of the common place — above the level of the ordinary — 
above the level of the humdrum. So far so good. But we have 
submitted incontrovertible evidence — in the shape of the opinions 
of our celebrated specialists — as well as in the shape of the letter 
to Commonwealth's attorney Micajah Woods dated July 3, 1897 — 
that the facts set forth in "Robbery Under Law" are facts which have 
already occurred in real life in the case of Ghaloner against Sherman, 
and might occur in real life again any day. 

As a historian — author of that history of the inner workings of the 
main-spring of Metropolitan life in New York, during the closing years 
of the 19th and the first decade of the 20th centuries — entitled "Four 
Years Behind The Bars of 'Bloomingdale' Or The Bankruptcy Of Law 
in New York" — we are appalled at the attitude of the press of the 
United States towards that now celebrated expose of life behind the 
scenes in the so-called "Four Hundred." With the exception of the 
New York "World," the New York "Tribune" and one other New York 
paper, not a soUtaryl line appeared in reference to the startling dis- 
closures spread at large in the pages of "Four Years Behind The Bars," 
at the hands of the Metropolitan press. Not one solitary line. Lastly, 
with the exception of the Raleigh, North Carolina, "News and Observer" 
and the Richmond "News-Leader" and the Richmond "Evening Journal" 
not a line appeared in criticism of said book south of Mason and 
Dixon's line. 

Such a statement is enough to mxike the spirit of George Washing- 
ton revisit the haunts of his former activities; and damn to Hell and 
on down — as Carlyle was wont to put it — the degenerate ways of the 
people now enjoying the glorious land won for them by his sword. 
The amazingly amusing spectacle in this alleged "land of the free" — 
of a law abiding citizen — who has proved himself an Art Patron to 
the tune of establishing a hundred thousand dollar Scholarship; 
from the income of which Art Students of both sexes are sent to 
Europe to perfect their studies in all the branches of Art from Paint- 
ing to Music and the Stage — following the lines of Napoleon's Prix de 
Rome — to which he himself gave two whole years of his life, crossed 
the ocean four times, went as far West as Cincinnati and Chicago, and 
as far South as New Orleans, and suhscrihed thirteen thousand dol- 


lars — the funny sight — in this alleged "land of the free'' of a man 
like that, being arrested and locked up for life as a dangerous lunatic; 
is enough to make a horse laugh, and make any citizen of this great 
and glorious Republic capable of a moment's sustained thought outside 
the national pursuit of the dollar, shake in his shoes for the future of 
the United States. When said citizen delves deeper into the malodorous 
mess known as Chaloner against Sherman he finds that all and sundry 
charges against the plaintiff are perjuries _ pure and simple; upon 
the part of relatives, either interested in getting him out of the way 
for life, in order that they might enjoy his large and constantly grow- 
ing fortune at his death; or relatives who had quarrelled with him 
and desired to see him in an undesirable situation. 

We do not consider it necessary at this time to even hint at the 
object the press of the United States had in attempting, to smother 
"Pour Years Behind The Bars." That book was sent registered, to 
some fifty or so leading newspapers from the Atlantic to the Pacific 
and from the Lakes to the Gulf, with the aforesaid results. Right 
here it might be said — more in sorrow than in anger — that the press 
of the United States has ceased to represent the happenings of the day 
throughout the United States. Instead it picks and chooses among 
those happenings those which suit its editorial policy, its business 
policy, its social "high-society" policy; and all otheiH facts it does its 
damnedest to smother. And when smothering is out of the question, to 
colour and otherwise distort. Such being the case we have utterly 
and entirely ceased to expect fair play, or anything in the remotest 
degree resembling decent treatment, or even honest truthful treatment, 
at the hands of the press of the United States. We hasten to say 
that there are quite a good many honourable exceptions to this rule, 
but the vast majority of the American press is as we have pictured it, 
towards the author of "Who's Looney Now?" and his variegated and 
militant fortunes. Such being the case we have taken the following 
formidable resolve, to wit, So soon as we have recovered our property 
we shall start out on the road and with a good company, enact the role 
ot "Hugh Stutfield" in "Robbery Under Law." If we find the theatres 
closed against us for the same reason that we find the newspapers — 
whatever that reason may be — we shall follow the illustrious example 
of Madame Sarah Bernhardt under the precise and identical circum- 
stances, and act in a tent! Having a million and a half of property 
we are in a fairly strong position as regards carrying out to the letter 
the above pushful programme. The first question that will present 
itself to the reader will be "What kind of a fistj can 'W^ho's Looney 
Now?' make at acting? Can he actT' To which we hasten to make 
answer "'Who's Looney Now?' undoubtedly can act." Thus. In the 
first place, there is a good deal in heredity and environment at birth. 
Now "Who's Looney Now" came within one ace of being born on the 
stage — of being actually horn on the 'boards! The remarkable facts are 
as follows, "Who's Looney Now's?" Mamma was very fond of the 



Theatre. The night before "Who's Looney Now?" appeared in this 
world "Who's Looney Now's?" Mamma was seized with a desire to 
attend a theatrical performance that was taking place on the next 
block from the house she was then visiting. This house was the Town 
house of her Grandfather, the late William B. Astor in LaFayette 
Place, New York, in the shadow of the Astor Library. "Who's Looney 
Now's?" Papa humoured his wife's whim — it being the first time such 
a thing had occurred — "Who's Looney Now?" being his Mamma's first- 
born — and accompanied his wife to the Play House and the best box 
therein. Before the play was over — to cut a long story short — "Who's 
Looney Now's?" Mamma had to hurry home in order to avoid a most 
sensational denouement. 

Under the circumstances aforesaid it should not be surprising to 
an open minded reader, that "WTio's Looney Now?" has had from 
earliest childhood a penchant for the stage. Such being the fact "Who's 
Looney Now?" has always carried it locked in the inmost recesses of 
his breast that — provided circumstances were favorable to such a sen- 
sational and unusual thing — he would one day go on the stage! TVith 
this secret intent he has always avoided strenuously taking any active 
part in that morgue for histrionic ability "Private Theatricals." Two 
facts stand out in "Who's Looney Now's?" later years, indicating his 
ability to make good on the boards. The first fact indicates ability 
in said line. The second fact indicates serious study along and in said 
line. Fact number one is that "Who's Looney Now?" surprised and 
delighted his Father — his Mother being now- dead-^by taking first prize 
in Declamation at a Military Academy, by name, "St. John's School," 
Ossining-on-Hudson, New York; at the early age of thirteen — out of a 
school of seventy-five boys — many of whom were four or five years 
"Who's Looney Now's?" senior. Anyone w-ho knows anything about 
acting knows it's harder to be interesting on a naked platform against 
a white-washed schoolroom's wall, than surrounded by all the sensu- 
ousness and fairy glamour of the foot-lights. 

Fact number two is that "Who's Looney Now?" devoted a whole 
winter while an undergraduate at Columbia University in New Y^ork, 
to taking lessons in gesture and intonation-, the use of the throat and 
lungs, from a professional in that line; whose business it was to train 
professional actors — that early day being long before Dramatic Acad- 
emies — for fitting aspirants for the stage — had been dreamed of. "Who's 
Looney Now?" being a great admirer of Edwin Booth — whom he knew 
personally — and considering him the greatest actor of his day, if not 
of any day — spent about four nights out of each week during Booth's 
last and longest season at- Booth's Theatre at 23rd Street and Sixth 
Avenue — during the same year that he was studying elocution profes- 
sionally — and also sent his Dramatic Instructor aforesaid to the same 
Theatre frequently — supplying the Instructor w^ith the necessary tick- 
ets. The next day "W^ho's Looney Now^?" would read the soliloquies in 
Hamlet and Richard III to the Instructor, rendering the same with 


as nearly the same tone, accent, and inflection as Booth had given 
them the night, or nights, before. Now a study of the features of 
"Who's Looney Now?" in the Frontispiece, followed by a comparison 
of said features with those of Edwin Booth, v>-ill lead to a revelation 
of the fact that there is somewhat more than a passing likeness be- 
tween the storm-tried face of "Who's Looney Now?" and that of Ekiwin 
Booth. Lastly, in said connection. The tones of "Who's Looney 
Now's?" voice so strongly resemble those of Edwin Booth that said 
Dramatic Instructor remarked more than once to "Who's Looney Now?"' 
upon the latter's finishing the opening speech of Richard III or the 
"To be or not to be" of Hamlet — "If you shut your eyes it sounds as 
tho' Booth were in this room." When to the above serious active work 
in the Dramatic Art is added the fact that, some years later, "Who's 
Looney Now?" carried his Lares and Penates to Paris and set them up 
in a house or private apartment of his own for five consecutive years; 
during which time there was hardly a week elapsed without his going 
to the Theatre Francais at least once, if not twice, as well as once 
or twice each week to some other of the leading French Theatres, 
it becomes palpable to the poorest observation that "^Tio's Looney 
Now?" was "going some"' — to Theatres — to school. All this time 
"Who's Looney Now?" had the starry end in view, to — one of 
these days — provided ahcays and only that Fate should be pro- 
pitious — that circumstances should point the way to that rugged and 
daring path of toil and disappointment and severe work — the starry 
end in view to at the proper time — have a dash on the boards. And all 
this time therefore "^\Tio's Looney Now?" was watching Coquelin 
Aine, or Coquelin Jeune or Mounet-Sully at the Franais for tips 
and points and what not, for his own particular use at the proper 
time — French Dramatic Art being as much at the top of all Dramatic 
Art to-day, as French Painting and Sculpture and Architecture are at 
the topmost pinnacle of their respective branches of Art to-day. 

Therefore "Who's Looney Now?" would mount the stage with a far 
from unsophisticated attitude toicards the stage. Now what would 
"Who's Looney Now?" be required to do in his initial step — the step 
that breaks the ice — le premier pas qui coute step — upon mounting 
the stage in "Robbery Under Law?" Why nothing more difficult than 
copy the role he had CREATED IN REAL LIFE— ON THE STAGE 
TEEN YEARS AGO: or, lastly, WHEN HE ESCAPED. The above 
"Bloomingdale" dates are reckoned from March 13, 1915, It sho^ild 
not he v^ry difficult for a 77wn to copy himself. 


If "Robbery Under Law" is a success "Who's Looney Now?" will 
then venture on the role of "Catiline" in "The Hazard Of The Die." 

Now what is the necessity forcing a millionaire like "Who's 
Looney Now?" onto the stage? Why just this. The effort upon the 
i)art of the consolidated American press to smother ''Four Years Behind 
The Bars'' as aforesaid. 

"Who's Looney Now?" is not the kind of man to permit a plan 
he had devoted his entire time to furthering, fostering and pushing 
for eighteen years to be smothered by the Press, or by any other aggre- 
gation of capital whatsoever. Since the Press are — for motives best 
known to themselves — enthusiastically taking part in the thieve's game 
of depriving "AVho's Looney Now?" of his million and a half on the 
perjured charge of insanity, vyhy so much the morse for the American 
press — that's all 

"Who's Looney Now?" thanke the American Press for the excuse — 
for ichich he has ivaited all his life — to go on the stage. It may not 
at first appear what going on the stage has to do with smothering 
"Who's Looney Now's?" more or less laudable efforts at reforming the 
damnable Hell-begotten Lunacy Laws now disgracing New York, New 
Jersey, Pennsylvania, all New England and altogether forty per cent, 
of the States of the United States. It has just this to do with it. 
"Who's Looney Now?" is in his third year — well on in his third year — 
as a successful public lecturer on that very subject Lunacy Law Re- 
form at the "Rex" Moving Picture Theatre, 7th and Broad Streets, 
Richmond, Virginia. He lectured there twice a month from the first 
week in September, 1912, until January or later in 1914, when he cut 
his appearance down to the last Sunday night in each month in place 
of tico Sunday nights in the month. He has had so little diflSculty in 
attraf^ting audiences to the "Rex," that after the first few months, way 
back in 1912, he ceased to advertise his appearance; and since then 
has not had to pay out so much as one dollar for advertising purposes. 
Incidentally all this tiw.e ''Who's Looney Now?'' loas training and 
cultivating his voice for the stage. For this purpose no better spot 
on earth than this same "Rex" Theatre could have been chosen — for 
strengthening the voice and enabling it to shout at top pitch for an 
hour or more above a competitive and persistent roar. For along 
Seventh Street runs a trolley line — within some twelve or fifteen feet 
or so of the stage. The sides of the "Rex" are open at the top for 
ventilation. Hence "Who's Looney Now's?" voice has to compete with 
and dominate the crash and roar of a trolley car: to which is to be 
added the brazen clang of its bell. An hour and a quarter of this 
sort of thing once a month for two years and os half has given "Who's 
Looney Now?" a pair of lungs ready and willing to compete with the 
bellowing s of the dull of Bashan itself! Therefore the intelligent 
reader will gather that there has been a method lurking in the back- 
ground of "Who's Looney Now's?" three years' shouting at the "Rex" 
to-wit: Voice and Lung Culture. 


Having accounted for The hair on the outside, we shall now lift 
the veil from the milk in the cocoanut and show what going on the 
stage has to do with Lunacy Law reform. 

Tnrs. The lectures at the "Rex" are free lectures. ""Velio's Looney 
Now?'" purposes to address the audiences after the fall of the curtain 
in "Robbery Under Law/' for ten minutes precisely: and put before 
them — in each city he plays in — all through the United States — the 
black and foul stigma now staining the fair name of Law, Justice, and 
Liberty in these United States in the name of Lunacy Law. 

Furthermore. Each Sunday afternoon "Who's Looney Now?" will 
hire the largest hall each city contains, and for two hours hold jor^h 
on the interesting topic of criminal lunacy legisl<ition now masquerad- 
ing under the name of law in 40 per cent, of the States of the Union. 

These lectures will be of course free, and will be advertised a day 
or so before in the local papers, or on bill boards and hoardings, as the 
case may be. 

"Who's Looney Now?" opines that he will draw a crowd. There- 
fore in time — how long it will take to arouse the American people 
from their disgraceful — their criminal — lethargy in this matter — God 
only knows: but "Who's Looney Now?"' is quite confident that before 
he gets too old to shout or mount a platform the miracle will have 
'been enacted: and the American people will have risen to the situation,, 
wiped off the foul stain now upon their character as a law abiding, 
law respecting, liberty loving people, and put it into their national 
platforms that the foul farce now disgracing the Statute books of 
about forty millions of Americans sJiall cease and determine, and that 
a set of Xational Lunacy Laics shall he enacted which shall place 
Lunacy Procedure on as secure and fair a basis as say. Bankruptcy.. 


THE NEWS-LEADER, Richmoncl, Virginia. 
More Daily Circulation Than Any Paper Published in Virginia. 

October 5, 1911. 
John Armstrong Chaloner, 

"The Merry Mills," 

C-obham, Virginia. 
Dear Sir : — Permit me to make tardy recognition of the receipt 
of your latest photographs, which were sent me several days ago by 
Homeier and Clark. I thank you for them. 

Under separate cover I am mailing to you a photograph of you 
attired as Napoleon, made in this ofl5.ce by our artist, Mr. Criswell. 
I trust you will pardon our taking the liberty of decapitating; you, but 
we promise not to repeat the offense. For the dual reason that you 
may care to have the picture, and that we may not have occasion 
to use the picture again in view of the fact that we have a news- 
paper "cut" of it, I am presenting the likeness to you. With it I ana 
sending you a copy of the ISlews-Leader to show the connection in which 
the picture was used. 

As I remember, you sent to the Fair last year "The Sire of Dol- 
gorouki" — and said you would send the real **Dolgorouki" this year. 
If you intend doing this, I would like to have a picture of his liig;hness. 
Thanking you again for the photographs, 
I am, yours very truly, 

Managing Editor. 

The shock which the average reader will sustain at finding that 
a newspaper editor and not "Who's Looney Now?" is responsible for 
the above "real bargain furore'' photograph — to borrow the language 
with which the writers for ladies fashion journals urge on their fair 
readers to the fray — incite them to fresh efforts at buying — the shock 
which the above "real bargain furore" photo will hand out to the aver- 
age reader as aforesaid, will be mitigated by knowing that the cause 
of the whole trouble into which "WTio's Looney Now?" was precipitated 
like a projectile from a thirteen-inch gun, March 13th, 1897 — ^and 
fetched up standing in the cells of "Bloomingdale" — without ever see- 
ing a judge or hearing that there was any question concerning his 
sanity upon the cards — the cause of said whole trouble is positively 
and absolutely expressed in the following brief statement, made casu- 
ally to one or two close friends, namely: that it occurred to him that 
Tie looked like Napoleon Bonaparte. 

J 86 

"Who's Loonev Now?" is positively and literally accused of being 
stark staring crazy because he happened to casually observe on one 
occasion, possibly two occasions, to intimate male friends that he 
thought he resembled Napoleon Bonaparte in appearance. 

Here follows the cold, hard judicial proof of the above allegation, 
taken from the Commitment Papers signed by Judge Henry A. Gilder- 
sleeve, Justice of the New York Supreme Court, March 10th, 1S97, and 
attached to the Proceedings, in the New York Supreme Court, before a 
sheriff's jury against John Armstrong Chaloner, in May, 1899. On 
line 243 of said Commitment Papers are found the following words 
sworn to by Medical-Examiner-in-Lunacy, ^Moses A. Starr, M. D., Pro- 
fessor of Nervous Diseases in Columbia University Medical School — 
upon which words "IMio's Looney Now?" lost some $20,000, in one 
hundred dollars per week for a two room cell and an Irish keeper at 
"Bioomingdale" for nearly four years besides seventeen of the best 
and ripest years of his earthly career — "State ichat the patient ("Who's 
Looney Xoicf") said. . if anything, in presence of the examiners." 

While on line 245 are found these words, to-wit: "That he resem- 
bles yapoleon." and when the reader remembers that said damning 
charge against "Who's Looney Now's?" reason is introduced by the 
following sinister words printed on line 242 of said Commitment 
Papers, to-wit: "Facts indicating insanity person-ally observed by me," 
{said Moses A. Starr, M. B., Statutory-MedicaJ-Examiner-In-Lunnc-y) — 
the gayety of nations is increased. 

In the opening speech of Hon. Frederick A Ware, of counsel for 
""Who's Looney Now?" at the trial of his cause celebre in February, 
1912, Mr. Ware observed, to the jury, to the following effect: "Gentle- 
m.en of the jury, my client is accused by his accusers of being insane 
because he happens to think he happens to look like Naoleon. Now we 
shall show you a phtograph of John Armstrong Chaloner which will 
make you gentlemen think the same way." Said "bargain furore" 
photograph is the one referred to by Hon. Frederick A. Ware. 

In presenting before the dazed gaze of the public said "Bargain 
furore," we, therefore, are merely properly anticipating the rehearing 
of "Who's Looney Now's?" cau^e celebre. 


Registered. (Copy.) 

"The Merry Mills," Cobham, Va. 

March 19, 1915. 
Joseph H. Choate, Jr., Esq., 

Evarts, Choate & Sherman, 

60 Wall St., New York. 
Dear Mr. Choate : 

A letter just received from my New York counsel, Hon, Frederick 
A. Ware, states that he saw your Mr. Kobbe re the "Paris Prize" 
matter. Mr. Ware writes : "The complaint is to ask for an Incorpora- 
tion as he says he thought you proposed doing originally. I asked 
him about appointing you as one of the trustees; in that event, if 
such an appointment and incorporation were agreeable to you. He 
said that he thought that the present conditions would make that 
unlikely, but thought that Mr. Choate might agree to your naming 
a trustee, in your stead, all this assuming that you did not oppose 
the incoiporation." 

Now I am going to be quite frank. I do cppose the incorpora- 
tion and for more than one reason. The "Paris Prize" was founded 
by me from subscriptions raised by myself from prominent Art Pa- 
trons — to which I myself subscribed thirteen thousand dollars — in 
1890 and added to later — it was distinctly understood between the 
donors aforesaid and myself, that there was to be no precipitancy of 
incoi'poration. That the money was to be placed in a Trust Com- 
pany and there left until such time as it appeared advisable from 
the escperience gained by a considerable line of Paris Prize men hav- 
ing each spent five (5) years in the study of Painting first in Paris — 
later where he would. 

That meantime I must have full control of the educational side 
of the Prize and experiment as much as was found necessary along 
the lines laid down in the original scheme of the "Paris Prize." given 
by me to the New York Newspapers in January, 1891. and widely 
and prominently noticed by them — and invariably strongly endorsed. 

The funds, as aforesaid, were to be always — until finally incor- 
porated — in the hands of the United States Trust Company, Wall 
Street, New York — the Institution chosen by me as the strongest and 
most conservative for the purpose in New York. The income was 
to be expended as I might direct in consonance with the said schema 
This was strictly carried out. I gathered the Jury of Artists to hold 


die competitive examination wiiieli was to be the means of sdecdng 
tlie Paris Prize-man or Paris Prize-woman to be sent abroad, l^ie 
tbing worked to a charm. Without any more work than the above 
on my part, the jury consisting of the Presid^iis of the Academy of 
Design, Society of American Artists, American Water Colour Society 
and Art Students League, as well as artists sheeted by them in addi- 
tion — ^I am writing at haste and entirely from memory — as I remember 
it — without any more red-tape, legal fuss and feathers — verbosity and 
the like, the jury quickly went to work and worthed out its own sal- 
vation in short order. Bryson Burrou^is was the winner of tlie 
Prize, a stud«it at the Art Students League — as I rMnanber it. He 
at once received his first years payment of ($900) nine hundred 
dollars — ^the Prize is nine htmdred dollars a year for five (5) years, 
paid in advance, and sailed for Paris. He ^ayed there five (5) 
years — yearly s»idii% ba<^ work signed and examined by a local jury 
of prominent French Artists, who met at the United States Embass.v 
at a limch given them by the American Amba^ador. 

Puvis de Chauammeg, Carolus Duran, Gerome, Benjamin Constamt 
and Dagnom BoMveret, formed the first Foreign Jury. Mr. Burron^ls 
proved such a snecessfnl painter that now, besides being an active 
painter, he oceoi>ies the important post of Curator of Paintings at th*^ 
Metr<^)olitan Museum of Art, Xew York. So s:-::: :is lie returned a 
new "Paris Prize" examination was held and Lawton Parker was 
chosen. He was a student at the Wm. M. Chase Art School as I re- 
member it. He remained five years in Paris, and his work regnlariy 
inspected, as above described, and sent bcMne, was imiformly satis- 
factory. At the end of the five (5) y^trs instead of c<Mning to America 
he rranained in France, In 1913 he startled the worid of painting by 
receiving the Gkrtd Medal — the First and Highest Award — at the Paris 
Salon, he being not only the first American — for not even John Sargent 
hag e^per received it. nor Whistler — but the fir^t foreigner — the first 
non-Frenchman to receive the Gold Medal since its creation: These 
are the only two products of the **Tari5 Prize.** Why this is thus. 
yoiL my dear sir. know better than L The money was all there for 
holding the competitive examinations, and yet not a wheel was turned — 
nrAJiing was done — ^the "^"Paris Prize" was gently swathed in a wind- 
ing sheet, and, like the talent in the Bible — buried in the ground to 
airoit the resurrection or — my demise. However, that is rather a 
painful subject, for you gentlemen ranged on the other side, so we 
shall not discuss it further. 

However, that is no reason for giving the "Paris Prize" the "raw- 
deal** you now prop<^!e in Incorporating it without the guiding hand 
of her creator — my humble self. The absurdity of the acts of the 
law at times would make a horse laush. Here is the creator of the 
yrize refused a seat on the Board of Trustees, simply becatL«!e he ha? 
not yet had the opporttmity to present his case in court before a court 
that will recognize the rulings of the Supreme Court of the Fnited 
States in TTind^or r«. McVeigh. ^3 F. S. — which say? "notice** and 


"opportunity"— to appear and be heard— are necessary in order that 
the court of first instance get jurisdiction. However, I have no idea 
of entering on a legal argument with you on paper. I look forward 
with considerable gusto to doing that in my approaching brief on 
appeal to the United States Supreme Court in Chal. agst. Sher.; on 
w^hich I am now at work. To resume. The "Paris Prize" has only 
sent two (2) Prize-men abroad — that is not a very long list of ex- 
perimental students, is it? 

To a lawyer or as a business man it should be unnecessary to dilate 
upon the risk of incorporating an Educational Scheme as new and 
untried as the Paris Prize, until it had been tried out. So long as 
the Financial End was in safe-keeping, everything was serene. Noth- 
ing could he surer than the United States Trust Company. The fifty 
thousand dollars stands in the name of the "Paris Prize Fund." by 
John Armstrong Chaloner, or some such caption, on the books of the 
United States Trust Company. No power on earth could get a dollar 
of that fund more than the income — imthout a court order — and no 
one ivas permitted to touch the income hut myself, who receipted to 
the said Trust Company for each annual payment — or semi-annual — 
at this distance I don't care to say positively what the frequency of 
payment was, more than that it was in advances not more than one 
year or less than one-half year — in advances to the Prize-man. I then 
sent by draft the money to the "Paris Prize-man"' in Paris, and turned 
the vouchers — among which was his receipt — over to the U. S. T. Co. — 
where they are — or should be — to this day. What in the name of 
the Devil and all his angels, my dear Sir, is the use of all this red 
tape atjout incorporating the Fund while you "Steicards"' — to continue 
the parable — are so remiss in your duty tliat you refuse to take my 
lead, refuse to follow the estahlished honoured precedents of ten years 
siwcessful Art Education in Paris, as proved hy the hrilliant careers 
of the only two Prize-men you ''Stewards'' permitted, thro' your supine- 
ness, and lack of regard for public education in Ari: and indifference 
to philanthropic ends — ^your minds and eyes, being so glued on — ^to the 
dollars and their sordid shape, that the ohject for which the Fifty 
Thousand Dollars then years and years ago — making up the Paris Prize 
Fund — now nearer Seventy-five Thousand dollars — was quite forgotten ! 
Why didn't you get a move on your distinguished selves and follow my 
lead in the case of Paris Prizemen Bryson Burroughs and Lawton 
Parker? There's a question for the jury indeed! Therefore I do not 
propose to have all this undue haste — mind you the Prize has sent 
only 2 students to Paris — ^thanks to you gentlemens' sloth and indiffer- 
ence, aforespid — in incorporating when nothing calls for the red tape 
and rigidity incorporation means at this stage of the game, whereas 
the Educational side is left naked and bare. The Educational side — 
bear in mind is self-acting — or was when I was at the wheel in 1896 

The Educational Institutions in Art forminsr the Home jury are 
still in existence — or their successors — and could come together as 


readily as they did to elect Bryson Burroughs and Lawton Parker, 
Bend your bounding energies to sending a needy but gifted American 
Art Student to Paris, my dear sir, rather than in attempts at hide- 
binding a thing as free as Art, and at the same time as safe as the 
United States Trust Company — with premature incorporation. Lastly: 
Things are rather up set on the continent just at present. And from 
my way of looking at it they will continue so far at least as two (2) 
years. Therefore at that time — when Chaloner agst. Sherman reaches 
the United States Supreme Court on Appeal — at that very time — will 
the Allies enter Berlin — so mote it be — there or thereabouts. There- 
after all will be serene on both sides of the Atlantic. You and your 
friend Mr, Sherman, will be invited by the Federal Court to step 
down and out, and take your long noses out of my affairs, and your 
long fingers out of my well-lined coffers. Thereupon a new examina- 
tion for a Paris Prizeman can be held by the aforesaid Art Presidents, 
and a Paris Prizeman will sail into a French port, as I sail into your 
and Sherman's conduct of tny affairs. In a word, now is about the 
worst possible time ever — since the French Revolution at least — to 
rehabilitate the "Paris Prize" in Paris, after the "black-eye" your mis- 
conduct — aforesaid — wilfully administered to this great and unique 
scholarship — the only self-supporting Art Scholarship for Painting in 
the metropolis of the United States! So what's the matter, my dear 
sir, with letting sleeping dogs lie? You put the "Paris Prize" to sleep, 
by your acts aforesaid — why not let her sleep on? You put her to 
sleep for nine (9) calendar years (.9) ! Is there anything in law or 
equity against letting her sleep on for a short two more — until my 
resurrection from the dead — you know you gentlemen rendered me 
"civilly dead" — and although / personally rose from my legal resting 
place, my property lingers in the tomb — my legal grave — Novembei 
6th, 1901, when the county court of Albemarle County, Va., — this 
County — pronounced me sane and competent : in place of what your 
criminal proceedings in the New York Courts procured by and based 
upon, kidnapping, conspiracy and perjury — ^basely libelled me with. 

So, my good sir, pray let well enough alone. Show a little de- 
cency — whether you happen to have any or not — pretend to, for once, 
and let well enough alone. Don't make a fool of yourself and asl' the 
court what to do with the piffling little remnant of income in the second 
rate Trust Company, put there by the late Charles F, McKim — the 
partner of my good friend and stool-pigeon the late lamented Mr, 
Stanford White — don't do that — pray the court to order the said pica- 
yune sum to be turned over to the "Paris Prize Fund'' noir in hands 
of the United States Trust Company — where it belongs. 

I shall oppose in the courts any other action thnn this, and fight 
you through every court in New York, and then begin in the Federal 
Court, and fight you clean up to the Supreme Court of the United 
States, "Let us ha^e peace." 

Sincerely yours, 



p. S.— A word regarding the "Paris Prize Fund." Tbe otber 
subscribers are a bagatelle alongside my subscription. Thus: I really 
subscribed thirteen thousand plus twenty-t)ve thousand — Thus. My late 
cousin, Henry Astor Carey, was dining with me one night at the 
Somerset Club in Boston. An idea occurred to me. 1 said to him : 
"Harry, you have been very generous to the "Paris Prize," you have 
given more to it than any Art Patron I ever approached — ticice as 
much in fact. Now, do one thing more. You're a millionaire and a 
bachelor. We are both of us in the prime of life and healthy, and 
you are younger than I. Now which ever one of us dies first leaves 
twenty-five thousand dollars to the "Paris Prize Fund" — of course 
as it's not yet incorporated you must, — to be legal — leave it to me — 
"with the w-ish and hope that I pay it over to the 'Paris Prize Fund' 
as soon as incorporated." I'll do the same. "Done with you," said 
my generous cousin. The lawyer he had was one of your gang, Henry 
Lewis Morris, familiarly known to the New York bar as "Hungry 

Oarey went to him and said he wanted to change his will. "Hungry 
Hank" staved it off until Carey died ahaut May, 1893, and the money 
was never left, because the new will was never made, thanks to 
"Hungry Hank's aforesaid unlav^yerlike, to call it by no harsher terms, 
proceeding — I told his brother the facts and he generously — he could 
well afford it, as he was a millionaire anyway, and Henry Astor 
Carey's death doubled his million at the very least — and he gener- 
ously made good, and paid me personally twenty-five thousand dol- 
lars in gilt edged bonds. So my foresight — in thus discounting death — 
gambling on it, so to speak — enables me to say that, in effect my real 
subscription to the Paris Prize, the amount standing opposite my 
name — Henry Astor Carey's name is there also — ^is my original dona- 
tion of thirteen thousand dollars, a7id said ticenty-five thousand dol- 
lars, making thirty-eight thousand dollars. I differentiate thus be- 
tween the five thousand Henry Astor Carey subscribed himself, per- 
sonally, to the Fund, at its incipiency. That stands opposite his name 
as his subscription pure and simple. But tnis twenty-five thousand 
was not given by him, it was given by his brother, out of money left 
by him, in accordance with an agreement made by me with him, prior 
to his death. So you see all this talk about "the wishes of the other 
subscribers to the Fund" t regarding the present conduct of the Fund 
is very like piffle and poppycock, and about the weight of thistledown, 
or as the very modest subscription of the multi-millionaires in the 
game are to Henry Astor Carey's subscription of five thousand dol- 
lars, and the thirty-eight thousand dollar subscription of myself lacked 
hy his ghost — so to speak. Here are all the subscriptions and amounts 
in the order as given — all made between November and Xmas, 1890. 

tChoate had in a previous letter, in the matter, lusrged in thai 
phrase by tbe ears. — J. A. C. 


The late Laura Astor Delano $ 1,000 00 

Mrs. John J. Chapman 1,000 00 

William Waldorf Astor 1,500 00 

Henry Astor Carey (deceased) 5,000 00 

The late William Astor 2,500 00 

The late Cornelius Vanderbilt 2,500 00 

$ 13,500 00 

There were six subscribing Art Patrons besides myself. More 
than half of them are dead. They gave $13,500, and I and the ghost 
gave $38,500. 

This list is made entirely from memory and without notes — but it 
is certainly all that was subscribed by other Art patrons. I may 
have subscribed five hundred dollars, more or less, than thirteen thou- 
sand, or possibly rather more than that, but the essential thing is that 
the above are all the other subscribers and subscriptions, besides my- 
self, and Carey's Ghost — who, together — the ghost and I — subscribed 
$38,000, or $38,500. 


N. Y. Herald, January 26th, 1891. 


A Notable Foreign Scholarship Scheme Practically Established. 

Mr. Chalonet^'s Projeet. 

The Brooklyn Art Club Display and Various Shows By Painters. 

An excellent scheme for the benefit of American Art has been" 
elaborated and made actual by that energetic gentleman Mr. John 
Armstrong Chaloner, a great-grandson of William B. Astor, and a 
grandson of Mr. Sam Ward, who married Miss Amelie Rives, a lady 
who to her reputation as a writer, has added in considerable degree 
that of an Artist. 

Mr. Chaloner, who returned from Europe at the end of November, 
has raised in this city, being himself a substantial contributor, the 
sum of $25,000 for the purpose of sending abroad for five years study 
to return and teach at the close, an American Art student, who will 
be allowed $900 yearly. The amount of the fund is to be paid at 
the end of the first week in August, and the examination will be 
held in the first week of next June. The fund under trustees will 



be incorporated under the laws of the State, and the candidate is to 
leave for Paris the first week in September. 

Mr. Ohaloner has not alone raised all the money before he has 
made his project public, but has enlisted in its favor, with accept- 
ances to serve on the Jury such men as Daniel Huntington, President 
of the National Academy, Henry G. Marquand, President of the Metro- 
politan Museum of Art, William M. Chase, President of the Society 
or American Artists, J. G. Brown, President of the American Water 
Color Society, and E. D. French, President of the Art Students League. 

Mr. Chalouer having made his scheme possible in New York has 
since made tentatory efforts to the establishment of similar funds in 
Chicago, Boston and Richmond, and has laid his project informally 
from a National standpoint, before Secretary of State Blaine, who 
has unofficially given it his sanction. 

The idea is to send abroad a male or female student, who is 
to study in any centre of Art selected by the jury, and study painting 
pure and simple, and decorating. It is thought that such a student 
should study abroad for five years, and it is calculated that the sum 
already mentioned would amply suffice for his needs. 

Mr. Chaloner naturally thinks that people will wonder why he 
should start such a scheme, and as many people have asked him his 
object, announces that he has become interested in the matter, as he 
has for four years, guaranteed $1,000 a year to a young American 
Artist abroad, and is to continue that agreement for six more years. 
He says that the improvement of this artist when freed so largely 
from financial cares, has been marked. 

The fund is to be controlled by a Society consisting of or ap- 
pointed by the donors, and the candidate is to be chosen by Com- 
petitive Examination, in drawing, painting and composition, the jury 
being chosen from the Art Association or associations of the city or 
cities in which the fund or funds is or are raised. 

The fund is to have two branches, the financial and the artistic, 
each distinct. The latter branch in this city is to consist of the 
Presidents of the Academy of Design, Society of American Artists, 
American Water Color Society, Metropolitan Museum of Art and Art 
Students League, and two Artists chosen by the Society of American 
Artists, the Academy of Design, Art Students League and the American 
Water Color Society, making a jury of thirteen. 

Candidates must be twenty-one and residents or coming from the 
State in which the fund is raised, the latter clause covering stu- 
dents already abroad. No one who has received a medal or mention 
abroad will be eligible. Should the winner be financially able he or 
she will receive the artistically valuable honor of being chosen, and 
the money will go to the holder of the second place. 

Every three months drawings, oils, decorations or compositions 
signed by the Master are to be sent to the jury, and if the work 
is not up to standard the jury may order an examination for a new 
candidate at the end of the first year. Prolonged ill-health will re- 


suit also in a new examination. The successful candidates are to 
sign agreements to return and teach classes, to be selected by the 
jury, gratis for two years. If no suitable candidate is chosen in any 
one year the fund will be allowed to accumulate until a worthy can- 
didate is discovered. 

The financial body of the fund is to consist of a Society of or 
appointed by the donors and incorporated, the fund to be turned over 
to a Ti-ust Company. 

It is hoped that in time the cities will increase the fund>: to 
$60,000 thus enabling the sending of a student every year. 

It is suggested to have a National jui-y, which is to be composed 
of deputies from the Artistic branches to meet at least at the be- 
ginning, middle and end of five years. This Assembly is to have no 
control over the local institutions, but is to have as an object the 
holding of a National Salon, candidates being liors cotwours, and award 
prizes to them and others, foreign or American, 

Another suggestion is for an European Council, appointed by the 
National Assembly, to yearly report progress of students to the Na- 
tional Assembly or to the local institutions. Examinations might, if 
need be. be held abroad by the European Council. 

The New York WorU], .January 26, 1891. 


To Give Foreign Training to Those Who Deserve It. 

John Armstrong Chaloner's Scheme to Aid AU Worthy Aspirants. 

It is estimated that S900 a year will be needed for each student 
and that a thorough course will cover five years — twenty-five thou- 
sand dollars already subscribed for New York. 

Following the agitation regarding an American Salon for which 
plans are to be formulated at a meeting next Tuesday evening comes 
another plan of equal interest and importance to American Art, the 
idea of which originated with Mr. .John Armstrong Chaloner, the 
grandson of the late "Sam" Ward, who married Miss Amelie Rives, 
the Virginia authoress. Mr. Chaloner, who, through his mother, for- 
merly Miss Ward, — is a great-grandson of the late William B. Astor, 
is a young man of education and property. While a student in the 
latin quarter in Paris in 1887, he became interested in a young fellow 
American, an art student who was endeavoring to secure a professional 
education in the gay capital with insufiiciGnt means. He decided to aid 
the young man and this led to his taking a deep interest in the sub- 
ject of American Art students in Paris. 

After much study of the matter and direct knowledsre of the 


privatioQS to wliicli mauy promisiug Americau Art students were sub- 
jected in their efforts to secure needed art education, Mr. Chaloner 
determined to organize a scheme by which sufficient and proper finan- 
cial aid should be given to all deserving American students who might 
wish to go to Paris hereafter to pursue their studies. 

He estimated from his experience in the case of the student he 
had aided that $900 a year would be needed to properly educate and 
provide for the needs of each student and so last November he re- 
turned to America and after much thought and study, he devised 
a plan which he proceeded to lay before a number of Art patrons 
and connoisseurs, about twenty in all in this city. 

This met with the approval and endorsement of these persons 
and has resulted in the subscription of $25,000, which is a good nucleus 
for a larger fund to be raised in this and other cities. The names 
of the individual donors to this fund will be given when the money 
is paid in the first week of August next. Among them are men 
and women prominent in the art, social, business and literary worlds 
of the metropolis. 

Mr. Chaloner has in furtherance of his scheme visited Washington, 
where he called on Secretary Blaine and secured his unofficial endorse- 
ment as a matter of National importance, and Chicago, where he has 
interested several leading men in his plans. The matter has also 
been laid before prominent gentlemen and ladies of Boston and Rich- 
mond, Va., with encouraging results. 

Briefly outlined, Mr. Chaloner's plan is to raise a sufficient sum 
of money to guarantee a five years course of study abroad to any Art 
student from any city. Forty-five hundred dollars, or §900 a year is 
considered sufficient for this purpose in each case. The fund sub- 
scribed for this purpose is to be held by a Society consisting of, or 
appointed by the donors. The candidates are to be chosen by com- 
petitive examination in drawing, painting and composition under the 
auspices of a jury chosen from the existing Academy or Academies 
or Institutes of Art in each city. The fund in each city is entirely 
distinct and separate from the similar fund in other cities and its 
control is purely local. 

The S25,000 subscribed in New York will be payable early in 
August next, and the examination of candidates will take place here 
early next June. The candidate who passes the examination will 
leave for Paris early in September next 

The New York Fund will be placed under the management of an 
organization to be incorporated under the title of the "Institution 
of Art of New York," which is to be composed of two branches, the 
artistic and the financial. The jury is to number thirteen, and will* 
be composed of the Presidents of the Academy of Design, Society 
of American Artists, American Water Color Society, Metropolitan Mu- 
seum and Art Students League, and two artists to be selected re- 
spectively from the Society of American Artists, Academy of Design, 
Art Students League, and American Water Color Society. Tliis jury. 


will pass on all candidates, decide to which foreign city the candi- 
date is to \>e sent, and transact all Art business. The competition is 
to he cpen to women as well as meiL The candidates must be twenty- 
one years old, and must reside in or c-ome from the State in which 
any Institntion of Art, which will be modelled upon that of New York 
is situated. No person who has receiTed a medal or h<Hiorable men- 
ticm in any foreign Art exhibition will be digiWe, and if any winning 
candidate has sufficient means to be independent of the fond, he or 
she wHl not rec-eire any money, but will rec-eive the title of "Winner 
of the Pari- I: ze.^ or whatever title is selected while the person 
L ilri' s L ::e in the competition will leceiTe the ?900 per an- 
E :— : z 1- _er name will be bracketed with, but below that of 
the win:^: : : lize. Both the winner and the seocmd candidate 
in this z r M- : :am home and teach at the expiration of their 
joint tern:. 

Bei'ire re-ieivii:? any money the suceessfnl candidate mtist agree 
t ^z : i: hit r - :iiree months, drawings, and when suffici«itly 
£i ?-:: tI : :i ". : . tE rTcrH^ioiis or compcsiTions signel by the Master 
zLZri "tI 11 i- 1 1- 11. " rked to be rc^^ri -r l by the jury of 
It- I-^TiT-iL ::- -:::;_ 1:^ :r s!:e ii^^ ::--. If the work faU 
l^\:— -Ir ^:c:.-",i':z :- zir-^i :t :i.i ;i:- i-^ -ii iory after warning 

fu ::■::.:: :n :- :i:-? -:ri; -l: z::ify the stucen: -ili: ^: '/i^ ^^i •:: :i:e 
year r. z-~ ^z l::l :i:n will be held and a new c-an'lidate chosen. 
This s n:^ : ^^ — i: rply in c-ase of ill-healtlL 

Se- n i — T'-^ in lilates wiU be required to sign a contract that he 
c =:^^ - : :-- _T T"r:r?--::n :f five years, return to his or her home 
o:-" n '; -^:.-'i : ::— ^ ^ri- "^i :y the home jury, for a term of two 
y-: = -1 "i- T: m " ^ i= : nnd wortiiy any year, none will 

h~ -ri.: r 1 11 ii : i! ti; r-e allowed to accumulate until a 

The fz .1.::". :::::.i:i: : - :i: Insritrition of Art will be composed 
of 'i-^ '^:n:rv :: :i^ :■::: i :ii r-r^:!.- ari-inted by them, and will 
transac-L nil finarioial '0.1^1::-- = . Tii- f";,nd will be invested by this 
t>ranoh and deposited w::h. ^ T: :— ; rziany. Sixty thousand dollars 
has been placed as the suiq which sh::.:^. b-e raised by each Institution 
of Art, which at 5 per cent, will enabie ea:h to send a candidate 
abroad every year. Mr. Cha.':^- r:?: ;\:rr^."s ?. National Assembly, to 
be composed of deputies elec'ri zy the nrs: branihrs of each Institniion 
of Art, to meet at different cities in turn at the beginning, middle 
and end of each term of five years at least. This Assembly will bold 
National Exhibitions, in which the work of successful candidates will 
be Jiorx r-onrours and award prizes to both native and f'^reign artists, 
whose work is up to the required standard of admission. A European 
Council is also suggested to be appointed by the National Assembly 
and to report progress to the latter from year to year, or directly 
to different Institutions of Art, 


New York Daily Tribmie, January 29th, 1891. 

"Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner is meeting with success in promot- 
ing his plan to advance the interests of Art, by providing funds for 
the education of Art students. The plan is a practical one, and has 
received approval from high authorities. 

Mr. Chaloner has interested many people here in his praiseworthy 
undertaking, and will shortly visit Boston, Chicago and other cities, 
in order to arouse their public-spirited citizens to the importance of 
the work which he has at heart. 

New York TriMne. 

New York, Monday, January 26, 1891. 


John Armstrong Chaloner Is RaUing A Fund. 

A plan to establish an institution for helping worthy young men 
and women to gain a Parisian education. 

The artists of America have found a champion in John Armstrong 
Chaloner, a great-grand son of William B. Astor and a grandson of 
"Sam" Ward. Mr. Chaloner is a young man who, although he de- 
clares that he is not an artist, is an enthusiast on the subject of 
art, and especially American Art. His wife, who was Amelie Rives, 
the novelist, is studying Art in Paris. 

A few years ago while living in the Latin Quarter, in Paris, Mr. 
Chaloner met a poor but talented American Art student, to whom 
he guaranteed $1,000 a year for ten years to enable him to prosecute 
his art studies freely. In helping this man the idea occurred to him 
of raising a fund the income of which should be devoted to defraying 
the expenses of American Artists while studying abroad, in case they 
were unable to pay their own way. 

Among the American residents of London and Paris he raised 
$11,000, of which he contributed $2,500 himself. He then came to New 
York and has organized a Society, which is to be incorporated under 
the laws of this State by the name of the Institution of Art of New 
York, unless some other name is decided upon previously. He has 
also raised in this city $14,000, making a total fund of $2.5,000. which, 
it is expected, will be further increased by voluntary contributions. 

The institution of Art is to consist of two branches. The first to' 
be the artistic branch, and the second to be the financial branch. Each 
branch will be absolutely separate and distinct from the other, and 

while one will look after the artistic element, the other will simply 
attend to the financial affairs of the institution. 

There will also be a jury to examine candidates and pass upon 
their work after they have been sent abroad and to determine the 
details of their studies. The ex-ofiicio members of this jury, which 
will be under the control of the first branch will be the President of 
the National Academy of Design, President of the Metropolitan Mu- 
seum of Art, President of the Art Students League, President of the 
Society of American Artists, and the President of the American Water- 
Color Society. The other members of the jury will consist of two 
artists elected by each of the following: The National Academy of 
Design, the Art Students League, the American Water Color Society 
and the Society of American Artists. 

The second branch will consist of members appointed by the con- 
tributors to the fund or their appointees, who will transact all the 
financial business of the institution and control the fund. The fund 
will be deposited with a trust company and only its income will be 

The competition for the Paris Fund, as it will be called, will be 
open to women as well as men. The candidates must be twenty-one 
years old, and as it is expected that institutions of art will be estab- 
lished in all the principal cities in the country, they must live in 
the State in which the institution which selects them is situated. No 
person who has received a medal in any foreign art exhibition will 
be eligible. If the candidate who passes the examination before the 
jury has sufficient means not to need the income of the fund, he 
will not receive money, but will have the title "Winner of the Paris 
Prize," or whatever title is selected by the jury conferred upon him. 
The winner of the second prize will receive the money. 

A condition to which candidates must agree is that they must 
send home every three months drawings, and later oil studies, decora- 
tions or compositions signed by the masters under whom they are 
studying. If these samples of the work fall below the standard of the 
jury, the jury, after warning them will inform the candidate that at 
the end of the year a new examination must be held and a new can- 
didate selected, the same conditions will apply to those in ill health. 
Candidates must sign a contract that at the end of five years abroad 
they will return and teach an art class for two years for nothing. 
Mr. Chaloner also suggests organizing a National Art Assembly, com- 
posed of delegates from all the proposed Institutions of art in the 
country, which will be separate and distinct from one another, t-o 
which assembly the work of the candidates will be submitted. 

Tlie NevY York Workl, January 29tLi, 1891. 


A DcveIop}nent of Mr. Chaloncr's Educational Scheme. 

The success wliicli crowned the efforts of John Armstrong Chaloner 
of this city, in originating and perfecting the scheme for sending 
American Art students abroad has encouraged him to develop the idea 
further. He has long entertained the view that America was ripe 
for the establishment of a genuine Beaux Arts, or system of educa- 
tion to embrace all the higher arts. Mr. Chaloner raised $25,000 in 
25 days to enable American students in painting and drawing to 
secure a competent education, as described in the World of Monday. 

He is now confident of being able to duplicate this excellent work 
so as to give the same facilities to students in acting, sculpture, archi- 
tecture, and vocal and instrumental music. 

His ideas were brought down to a practical and simple basis be- 
fore he outlined the scheme to any of his friends, and have already 
received enthusiastic endorsement. Edwin Booth, after careful ex- 
amination of Mr. Chaloner's plan, yesterday sent him the following 
letter of cordial approval. 

The Players, 
16 Gramercy Park. 
New York, January 28, 1891. 
Dear Mr. Chaloner: 

Your scheme is an excellent one. and tends towards the cultiva- 
tion of the actor. With the same end in view, I established Booth's 
Theatre ; in the hope that it would become, in time, a training school 
for the American actor. This failed through my business experience 
being less than my professional. One of the advantages of your 
plan is that the business part of it will be in the hands of business 
men, and the artistic in the hands of artists. 

I feel quite sure that the details of your plan can be arranged 
so that the novice can receive here the requisite training to put him 
or her in a position to begin their work on the stage. 

Your suggestion is a good one that the novice, after receiving this 
training should spend a year or two abroad stopping long enough in 
the different capitals to familiarize himself with the methods of the 
different continental schools. 

Wishing the plan success, I am, ^ 

Yours truly, 


In explanation of the details of his plan Mr. Chaloner said to 
a World reporter who saw him yesterday : 

"The Institution of Art," if no better name be found, is the en- 


: '^- l^^ox Ans mad OoaaeiTataire, under an Ameri- 
-. rich city of tile mnan, wliicii approves tfae sciiaiie and 

_ :ra to eetaliiiEfc an fnrtitticn d Art.' 
^ _ - B^ wai it need?" "Sot as mmcfa >s 7^ ^ ^1 
iloner. *^oar tiioosaid fire 1 
rST? is ^tfifipnt to send a ne 
z T _ -Tcmtaiii inm <H> her tliere £_ 

--^.7 1: V. .__.;, ^^e better to soIkuHic the cs.: :' 
TMjt snm at 5 per c^nt. inlKest. If this f.^ _ -^ - 

:^ pxtesmwd that the capita], flS^OOQ^ wil z ^ - 
- ytJOeO, a coital siffieieiit at 5 per cevL i^: — l 1 

: Txiad awti support him or li^ there _ : - : :_ 

1 : s?^> this erHy 12 months. The sam^ : 

rjet sex in an;r «E tiie pmpoee- 
_ : — T^ same loBgth of tiiD«^ f 1 

These teanjir^ ::: 
_ :- : - :i-r. md in mtsl ti- — _ :„t 7 _- 

in its opexalian. !• z r. Zzz .zr- z 7: l 

Naiiraal De^n, M^ — - z :: lil i^. li^^ru^ : 
tihe snceees of lus ^ — ^i an Art Sefaoiars: 

aee^iins the posiT : : 1 1 ry of avazd. : 

same cffieet hsKwe be- 
G. Haiqoand, of rl 
French. <^ tie Art 
the AmHiean War- 
iDei»«feti<TfD f^ xh^ =- „ - 

for B 

f Art. F: 



Having! received no reply to our above letter to Joseph H. Choate, 
Jr., it becomes incumbent upon us to lift the veil a little higher over 
his dark-lantern methods. To that end we print all that was written 
by him in a letter dated February 8, 1915, to a member of our office 
force upon the subject of the "Paris Prize Fund." In reading the 
excerpt the observant reader will note the nasty sneer at the Prize 
contained in the following phrase, to wit: "the so called Paris Prize 
Fund." Why "so called"? 

But sneering comes natural to Joseph H. Choate, Jr. It is in fact 
bred in the bone from his hard featured Papa — ^ Joseph H. Choate, Sr., — 
than whom a more cold-blooded, colder-hearted attorney never stared a 
witness out of countenance on the stand. 

But something far more sinister than a sneer — which after all, is 
more a question of good taste and good breeding, good bringing up 
and gentle forbears — something more sinister than the underbreeding 
displayed by Joseph H. Choate, Jr., is| at issue here. And that sinister 
thing is nothing less than the practical admission — on the evidence 
of said following excerpt, and also on the evidence of Joseph H. 
Choate's statement in his brief on appeal to the Federal Circuit Court 
for the Southern District of New York (New York City) in ChalonMr- 
against Sherman — that said promising offshoot of that promising old 
party Joseph H. Choate, St., has made up his nefarious mind to nothing 
less than appropriate the thirty-eight thousand five hundred dollars 
suhscri'bed dy us, as above described, which now — after more than 
twenty years — with interest added — amounts to about seventy-five thou- 
sand dollars — to what said Joseph H. Choate, Jr., jauntily describes, 
as "the so-called Paris Prize Fund." That is a startling remark to 
apply even to a man living in a place like the city of New York — 
where the motto taking the place of "God Bless Our Hom^e" — over 
pretty nearly every mantel-piece is '^Get Rich. Honestly If You Can. 
But Get Rich Anyway^ We hasten to make good said startling re- 
mark by inserting herewith said excerpt. 

Our distinguished adversary shows the cloven hoof unmistakably 
in the sinister closing sentence of his remarkably frank letter, to wit: 
"In such an action the Court can dispose of the Fund — hy directing its 
return to the subscribers. 

Said excerpt, to-wit : 

"Mr. Sherman has recently been approached by representatives of 
the Bankers Trust Company in which has been deposited from time 
to tiine income from the so-called Paris Prize Fund. Some of these 
deposits were made by Mr. St. Gaudens and Mr. McKim, both of whom 
have of course died. The Trust Company desiring to have its responsi- 
bility in regard to this Fund defined and limited, insists that some 
proceedings be taken to secure the appointment of a custodian or 
trustee of the Fund in succession to the deceased, and states its in- 


tention to bring such proceedings unless what it wants c*an be accom- 
plished otherwise. As the United States Trust Company also holds 
part of the Fund, and as each of the two companies is interested in 
only the portion held by it, no proceeding brought by either could 
Eettle all the questions involved. I have therefore advised Mr. Sher- 
n3an that the time has come for him to act upon the instructions con- 
tained in the order of the Appellate Division dated June 24, 1912, con- 
firming his annuEd account for the preceding year, and take steps to 
ascertain the rights of the several parties interested in the Paris Prize 
Fund and to secure the instructions of the Court as to its disposition. 
For this purpose he proposes to bring an action to which the living 
subscribers to the Fund, the representatives of those who have died. 
the two Trust Companies, and Mr. Chaloner shall be parties. In such 
an action the Court can dispose of the Fund either by carrying out 
as nearly as may be its original purpose or by directing its return to 
the subsribers. 

Yours very truly. 


Now, we have shown above that '""Who's Looney Now?" subscribed 
thirty-eight thousand, five hundred dollars ?3S.5t>J — or at least he and 
his generous cousin, Henry Astor Carey's ghost — to "the socalled Paris 
Prize Fund.'" So far so good. Xow it must be borne in mind that 
Joseph H. Choate's side-partner in the proposed spoliation of the 
largest Art Scholarship as above described — in the City of New 
York — that said distinguished practitioner's side-partner in this dia- 
bolical plot against an Educational Fand, by New York legal practi- 
tioners — namely that featherweight lawyer — that dummy and block- 
head figure head, in the firm of Evarts, Choate and Sherman, to-wit: 
Thomas Tittlebat Sherman is — in the eye of the majestic brand of 
bunco-law ruling the New York Courts, both State and Federal, in 
the guise of Lunacy Proceedure — the actual "subscriber" of said thirty- 
eight thousand five hundred dollars! For said Tittlebat Sherman is 
the ''committee'" — falsely so-called — of "Who's Looney Now"s person 
and estate in the revered State of New York. Therefore anything 
subscribed by '"IVho's Looney Now?'" to the "Paris Prize Fund" would 
In due course — provided Choate and Sherman succeeded in "pulling 
off" their "job," and "cracking' their way into the safe where now 
repose the Funds of said Paris I^rize — therefore anything subscribed 
by "Who's I>ooney Now?" to the Paris Prize Fund would, in due 
course, find its way to the buttomless pockets of Choate and Sherman. 
Nov.- if Choate and Sherman were honest men instead of what they are 

-By an oversight — caused by not having the books of the Paris 
Prize Fund at hand — twenty-five hundred dollars should be subtracted 
from said amount and credited to Arthur Astor Carey who subscribed 
said sum. Said amount now amounts — after more than twenty years — 
with interest added — to some seventy-five thousand dollars. 


on the evidence safe-blowers of Educational Funds — there would be no 
serious harm accruing from the transfer of the thirty-eight thousand 
five hundred to the bottomless pockets of the two distinguished 
gentlemen aforesaid. But the ways of the Wall Street lawyers 
are getting to be as crooked as the ways of Wall Street magnates^ — 
as base and vile as the John D. Rockefellers, William Rockefellers, and 
the late lamented noble exponents of Christianity in business that 
bluff old pirate, H. H. Rogers; and that undersized pirate B. H. Harri- 
man — not forgetting the Father of Wall Street crimes against the 
public and stock-rigging, that smooth little a hundred and ten pound 
vendor of mousetraps, the late lamented Jay Gould ; of Delhi, Delaware 
County, New York, now — through the deodorization of time — almost of 
sainted memory. Therefore the transfer of the "Paris Prize Fund" 
from the pockets of Choate and Sherman would mean the dissipation 
of the said thirty-eight thousand five hundred dollars. The proof 
of that grave charge? Here it is, writ large in the most mendacious, 
inefficacious, iself-damnatory purlieu of vicious and predatory sophistry 
ever put forth by a lawyer not yet languishing behind the bars of 
Sing Sing; or by a sophist since the days of the God-like Socrates him- 
self — who sacrificed his life in unmasking sophists as Jesus Christ 
sacrificed His divine life some hundreds of years later unmasking 
Pharisees and hypocrites — we allude to the said brief on appeal of 

Never in our extended career of thirty years as a lawyer before 
the New York County Bar — ^have we met such a depraved production 
emanating from a supposedly honest and reputable lawyer. Before 
citing from said quagmire of mendacity aforesaid, we shall dally 
with a sink as vile-smelling as itself namely the opening speech 
of said distinguished gentleman, at the farcical miscarriage of jus- 
tice miscalled a trial, before ex-judge Holt of the Federal District 
Court on Manhattan Island, in February, 191'2L This citation 
proves — out of the malodorous mouth of Choate — that we did perfectly 
right to bring an action for trover and conversion against his side- 
partner ISherman. For the said judge says — and Choate hasn't the 
effrontery to deny such an example of hornbook law from the bench. 
in the course of said trial — page 56 of the transcript of Record thereof 
— to wit: 

(By the Court): 

"TJiis suit is brought against that committee for the conversion 
of the property, on the theory that he has no right to retain it, it 
having been demanded and that he has not given it over, which 
amounts to a conversion." 

Now, in the teeth of the above statement from the court itself, 
that we were within our legal rights in bringing a suit for conver- 
sion, Choate has the depravity to attempt to take a shyster-advantage 
of the nature of the suit brought and admits that he and Sherman are 
about to attempt to appropriate our property. Hear him, and then 


marvel at New York society which tolerates such a man; and also con- 
sider that sanctimonious dignified aggregation of questionable practi- 
tioners — on their record in Wall Street — supporting to a man the Trusts 
against the people — consider that cave of the winds, that emporium of 
hot air the New York City Bar Association, of which Choate is an 
honoured member. Choate says page one of his brief: "The relief de- 
manded in the action as in all actions for conversion, is not return of 
the plaintiff-in-error's property to him. but a judgrnent for damages, 
which would necessarily be measured by the value of the property now 
in the committee's hands, and a judgment in favor of the plaintiff 
would vest defendant, person-all]/ with title to the property in hand at 
the time of the alleged conversion, at the same time charging him icith 
damages which wmild prolyaWy 6e much more or much less than the 
property's present value. 

The action can have no direct effect upon the very much larger 
amount of property which has c-ome into the committee's hands since 
it was commenced." Did anybody ever hear the like? One would 
suppose that no such thinng as the Maxim, "There is no vrrong without 
a remedy" existed, and had existed since the beginning of the Common 
Law. One would suppose that only one cut and dried method for achiev- 
ing a given end existed in law. Lastly, one would suppose that the 
hoary old and venerated maxim: 'Equity follows the law." did not 
exist. Let us hear Judge Holt from the bench on the subject once 
more. Page 14S, Transcript of Record. [The Court-] "T suppose Mr. 
Sherman knows what property he has in hand. If the plainti^ is 
entitled to recover at all. he is entitled to recover all he has. I taJce it." 

In closing this appalling spectacle of the abysmal depravity of 
the New York County Bar, we shall not refrain from observing that 
the reformation of the Bar and Bench suggested by "Hugh Stutfield" — 
not to mention the resolution hinted at by him — relieves added weight 

'*Who"5 Looney Now?" has proved himself — during a combat with 
the State of New York and her c-ourts of now in its nineteenth year — 
the possessor of that ancient military virtue — presumably inherited 
from his military ancestors — known as fertility of resource. 

For instance. Supposing that Choate and Sherman are able to 
hoodwink and bamboozle the New York Courts — both State and Fed- 
eral — as they have been eminently successful in doing for nineteen 
years — there still remains the United States Supreme Court. "^ 

Furthermore. Supposing them successful in that august quarter 
there yet remains this salient fact. To wit: "Who's Looney Now?" is 
the Paris Prize Fund: in the ratio of twenty-eight t'nousand five hun- 
dred, to thirteen thousand five hundred."" The latter insignificant sum — 

"in which our appeal in Chaloner against Sherman was filed April 
30. 1915. 

T^Or — as aforesaid — with over twenty years* interest — as about 
seventv-five thousand dollars is to about twenty-five. 



when compared with thirty-eight thousand five hundred — is all that 
was subscribed by outside Art Patronsftt — the large sum represents 
"Who's Liooney Now's?" benefaction. So far so good. Now if a hood- 
winked and bamboozled Court — or long chain of Courts — both State 
and Federal — permits this scandal — permits Clioate and Sherman, for 
their own nefarious dishonest and frankly thievish ends to disinte- 
grate and destroy the powerful Paris Prize Scholarship, and allow 
Art Students to be robbed for the benefit of said two Wall Street 
Attorneys, Choate and Sherman — why in that amusing travesty of 
justice this will take place. When "Who's LK>oney Now?" dislodges 
the said distinguished gentlemen from their seat on his strong box, and 
forces them to disgorge — through the courts, their overcharges, and 
sundry other little acts in financial matters — then "Who's Looney 
Now?" will announce in the papers that he is about to remove the 
"Paris Prize Fund" from New York, on the ground, that said suc- 
cessful thievish assault on Educational Funds, has proved Gotham 
an unhealthy locality for Educational Funds, and that he will set up 
the Lares and Penates of the Paris Prize in Washington, D. C., where it 
can be under the protection of the National Legislature rather than 
under that of the New York Courts. 

Thereupon he will add to the one hundred or two hundred thou- 
sand dollar damage suit he proposes to bring against the two chief 
Petitioners, namely, Messrs. Winthrop Astor Chanler and Ex-Lieuten- 
ant Governor Lewis Stuyvesant Chanler — the said thirty-eight-|- •[■ -j- j- 
thousand five hundred scattered to the four winds of heaven by the 
aforesaid sage action of the said Courts. The said one hundred and 
fifty to two hundred thousand damage suit is merely to recover the 
actual moneys disbursed by "Who's Looney Now?" in lawyer's, alien- 
est's, neurologist's and psychologist's fees — amounting roughly to some 
fifty to seventy-five thousand dollars — to w^hich must be added the 
twenty thousand dollars taken from "Who's Looney Now?" by "Bloom- 
ingdale," the twenty thousand dollars paid Evarts, Choate and Sher- 
man for legal expenses, and the annual four thousand dollars taken 
by those distinguished members of the Episcopal Cliurch and of the 
eminent Bishop Greer's See — said Choate and Sherman — from the well 
lined coffers of "Who's Looney Now?" together w^ith whatever other 
actual disbursements — ^not damages for loss of happiness or injury to 
businiBSs interests through the near-criminal mismanagement of Choate 
and Sherman — but actual disbursements made by "Who's Looney Now?'' 
for moneys caused to be spent by him, and covered by vouchers and 
receipts — through the Hellish injustice and barbarous unnatural sordid 
greed of said two Chanlers for his million and a half — backed up by 

tftExcept the twenty-five hundred dollars subscribed by Arthur 
Astor Carey aforesaid. 

f I If Now amounting to about seventy-five thousand as above de- 


their venemous viperish jealousy, spite and malice — in which noble 
aim said gentlemen were supported by the entire Chanler family, male 
and female. We fancy no judge will refuse to do us the above bare 

So — in time — like a Phoenix from its ashes will arise the '"Paris 

Since writing the above — and while "Robbery Under Law" is 
going through the press — the complaint of Thomas T. Sherman in re 
the Paris Prize Fund has reached us, together with the reply so 
earnestly desired by us from his attorney Joseph H. Choate, Jr. We 
insert said complaint, followed by said reply. 




THOMAS T. SHERMAN, as Committee of the person 

and property of John Armstrong Chaloner, etc., Plaintiff, 


BANKHRS TRUST COMPANY, and others. Defendants. 



Plaintiff's Attorneys, 
60 Wall Street, 
City of New York. 



Thomas T. Sherman, as Committee of the person and\ 
property of John Armstrong Chaloner, an incompetent 


Bankers Trust Company, United States Trust Company 
of New York, Elizabeth Winthrop Chapman, William 
Waldorf Astor, Warren Delano, Junior, as surviving ex- 1 
ecutor of the will of Laura Astor Delano, deceased, Alice 
G. Vanderbilt, William K. Vanderbilt, Alfred G. Vander- 
bilt, Reginald C. Vanderbilt and Chauncey M. Depev>% as 
surviving executors of the will of Cornelius Vanderbilt, 
deceased, Arthur Astor Carey, individually and as execu- 
tor of the will of Henry R. A. Carey, deceased, James 
R. Roosevelt and Douglas Robinson, as surviving execu- 
tors of the will of William Astor, deceased, and the At- 
torney General of the State of New York, 




To the ahove named Defendants: 

You are hereby summoned to answer the complaint in this action, 
and to serve a copy of your answer on the plaintiff's attorneys within 
twenty days after the service of this summons, exclusive of the day 
of service: and in case of your failure to appear or answer, judgment: 
will he taken against you by default, for the relief demanded in the 

Dated, New York, April S, 1915. 


Attorneys for Plaintiff, 
Office and Postoffice Address, 

No. 60 Wall Street, 
Borough of Manhattan, 
City of New York, N. Y. 



Thomas T. Sherman, as Committee of the person and, 
property of John Armstrong Chaloner. an incompetent \ 


Bankers Trust Company. United States Trust Company 
of New York. Elizabeth Winthrop Chapman, William 
Waldorf Astor. Warren Delano, Junior, as surviving ex- 
ecutor of the will of Laura Astor Delano, deceased, Alice 
G. Vanderbilt. William K. Vanderbilt, Alfred G. Vander- / Complaint 
hilt, Reginald C. Vanderbilt and Chauncey M. Depew, as 
surviving executors of the will of Cornelius Vanderbilt, 
deceased, Arthur Astor Carey, individually and as execu- 
tor of the will of Henry R. A. Carey, deceased, James 
R. Roosevelt and Douglas Robinson, as surviving execu- 
tors of the vrill of William Astor, deceased, and the At- 
torney General of the State of New York. 


Thomas T. Sherman, as Committee of the person and property of 
John Armstrong Chaloner, an incompetent person, plaintiff in the 
above entitled action, by Rvarts, Choate & Sherman, his attorneys 
therein, complains of the defendants in said action above named, and 
thereupon states and alleges, upon information and belief, as follows: 

First. Each of the defendants Bankers Trust Company and United 
States Trust Company of New York is a domestic corporation. 

Second. By order or judgment of this Court duly made and entered 
in the office of the Clerk of the County of Xew York on June 23. 1S99, 


,upon inquisition duly had, the said John Armstrong Chaloner was 
duly adjudged to be incompetent to manage himself or his property, 
and Prescott Hall Butler was appointed Committee of his person and 
property. The said Prescott Hall Butler duly qualified and acted as 
such Committee until by order of this Court duly made and entered 
on November 19, 1901, in the oflftce of said clerk, the resignation of 
said Prescott Hall Butler as such Committee was accepted, and the 
plaintiff herein was duly appointed, and he duly qualified as, and has 
ever since been and now is, the Committee of the person and property 
of the said John Armstrong Chaloner. 

Third. In or about the year 1890, the said John Armstrong Chal- 
oner, for the purpose of encouraging and fostering the study of art 
by men and women residing in the United States, by providing those 
suflBciently qualified, and in need of such financial aid, with the means 
of studying abroad, devised a plan or scheme as hereinafter set forth, 
and declared the same, and thereupon and to that end he himself con- 
tributed the sum of $14,000 and obtained from other American art 
patrons contributions as follows: From the defendant Arthur Astor 
Carey, or from Henry R. A. Carey, since deceased, 327 shares of the 
capital stock of the Morris and Essex Railroad Comapny, of the par 
value of $16,350,t and from said Henry R. A. Carey the sum of §5,000; 
from the defendant Elizabeth Winthrop Chapman, the sum of $1,000; 
from Liaura Astor Delano, since deceased, the sum of $1,000; from the 
defendant, William Waldorf Astor, the sum of $1,500; from William 
Astor, since deceased, the sum of $2,500; and from Cornelius Vander- 
bilt, since deceased, the sum of $2,500. The sums of money so con- 
tributed, aggregating $27,500, he invested in $25,000 in amount at par 
of the second mortgage five per cent, bonds of the Beech Creek Rail- 
road Company, and he thereupon deposited the said stock and bonds 
with the defendant United States Trust Company of New York, in the 
name of the "Paris Prize Fund," and made and delivered to the said 
Trust Company a written statement to the effect that he had made 
such deposit with it in the name of the "Paris Prize Fund," instead 
of in his individual name, for the reason, that w^hile he had full and 
absolute control of said stock and bonds, and was responsible therefor, 
he nevertheless preferred to keep them separate from his personal 
account until he should feel justified in organizing a corporation for 
^th^ purpose of advancing his Art Scheme, when they would be trans- 
ferred to such corporation. 

Fourtii. The said plan or scheme, as conceived and declared by 
Mr. Chaloner, and for the accomplishment of which the said contribu- 
tions were made, was to create a fund, and to invest the same, and 
from the income thereof to establish a Prize, to be known as the "Paris 
Prize," each Prize to consist of $4,500, paid at the rate of $900 a year 

tBut so far above par as to be worth twenty-five thousand dol- 
lars. — J. A, C. 


for five years, or such other amount as sshould be determined upon 
as proper, for the support of an art student in the study of drawing;, 
painting and decoration in Paris in France and other foreign art 
centres; and also from such income to pay the expenses incident to 
the carrying out of said plan and such amounts as might be advisable 
for its promotion and success. The Prize was to be awarded by a 
competent jury as the result of competition among the applicants, and 
to be open alike to men and women, but only to those students really 
in need of financial aid to carry on their art studies abroad. Each 
student receiving the Prize was to be required to do at least two years' 
work in Paris, after which, if he should so desire and the said jury 
should consider him sufficiently advanced, he was to be permitted to 
work elsewhere abroad. In order to secure the permanency of the said 
plan a corporation was to be formed, to be named the "Paris Prize," 
for the purpose of executing the same, to which corporation the said 
fund was to be transferred. 

Fifth. The said fund was received and deposited by Mr. Chaloner 
as aforesaid, subject to the charitable and educational trust as thus 
generally declared. This meritorious and practically helpful charity 
having been conceived by himself, and the contributions for the attain- 
ment thereof having been secured entirely by his own effort, it was 
understood by the said contributors and by Mr. Chaloner that he held 
the said fund as sole trustee, and with power, subject to the said trust, 
to control the said fund, and himself in his discretion to decide upon 
further details of said plan, and to apply the income of said fund in 
accordance with such decision. Mr. Chaloner worked out the said 
plan in further detail. He decided that it was advisable to establish 
the Prize only in the City of New York, to be open, however, to any 
American art student, without restriction as to residence, who should 
not have received a Medal or Honorable Mention in any foreign Art 
Exhibition or Salon, and that the Prize should be awarded every second 
year, experience having proven that, until the standard of art study 
in the United States should be raised, the supply of art students of 
the strength demanded by the Prize was not large enough to warrant 
the holding of an annual competition and sending an art student 
abroad every year. He arranged for a preliminary competition, ten 
candidates from such preliminary competition to be selected, by a 
jury composed as hereinafter stated, for the final competition for the 
said Paris Prize, and also for a monthly competition, the winner each 
month to be awarded $25, the work submitted to consist alternately 
of composition, drawing and painting, the object of which was to 
raise the standard of the Paris Prize competitions, to which the 
monthly competitions were to be the only avenue of entrance, as those 
only who should win a prize or honorable mention in such monthly 
competitions were to be eligible for the Paris Prize preliminary copeti- 
tion, and with the further object of bringing together in monthly 
tests the work of the representative students In the leading art schools 


of the United States and to raise the standard in such art schools, and 
to create and nourish an equal interest in composition, painting and 
drawing. These monthly competitions were called by Mr. Chaloner 
the "Paris Prize Concours," and they were to be decided by a jury 
of competent artists who should consent to act. The jury designated 
by Mr. Chaloner for the Paris Prize preliminary and final competitions 
was to consist of the following persons: 

The President of the National Academy of Design. 

The President of the Society of American Artists. 

The President of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

The President of the Art Students' League. 

Three artists, members of the National Academy of Design, chosen 
by said Academy. 

Three artists, members of the Society of American Artists, chosen 
by said Society. 

One artist to represent the Pratt Institute. 

Two artists to represent the Paris Prize. 

If no candidate of sufficient ability, in the opinion of the jury, 
should appear, no Prize was to be awarded that year, nor until the 
next regular biennial competition. The work of the Prize winner in 
Paris was to be supervised by an artist residing there, and the student 
was to agree to send home to the jury, at the end of each year, speci- 
mens of his or her work signed by the master under whom he or she 
had worked. If the work should fall below the standard required by 
the jury, the jury should, after assuring themselves that it was not 
merely a temporary fluctuation in the student's work, warn him or 
her that unless the work should reach the required standard during 
the following year, the Prize would then be withdrawn, and a new 
competition held. The aforesaid details of the plan, as worked out 
by Mr. Chaloner, are here stated as indicating an apparently wise 
and practical way of carrying out the trust as generally declared as 
aforesaid, and the possibility of executing it by a trustee or trustees 
appointed by the Court, or by a corporation formed for that purpose 
to which such trustee or trustees might convey the said trust prop- 

Sixth. In or about the month of February, 1897, the said John 
Armstrong Chaloner executed and delivered to Stanford White and 
kugustus St. Gaudens powers of attorney for the purpose of enabling 
them to collect the income and dividends of the said trust fund, and to 
apply them to the purposes of the said trust. Prior to said last men- 
tioned date Mr. Chaloner had applied certain of the income arising 
from the said trust fund and further sums contributed by himself, for 
the support of a student sent abroad in pursuance of said plan, and 
ther& remained, in May, 1898, of the income derived from the said 
stock and bonds and unexpended for the purposes of said trust, the 
sum of $2,-579.34 in the hands of said United States Trust Company, 
and $218.77 in the hands of Chaloner and Philip, Mr. Chaloner's law 


firm. By virtue of said powers of attorney the said Stanford White 
or Augustus St. Gaudens collected said sums of income, and thereafter 
deposited with The Mercantile Trust Company, in an account to the 
credit of "Augustus St, Gaudens or Stanford White," the said sums, 
and further interest and dividendg derived from the said stock and 
bonds, as follows: 

May 6, 1897, said sum of $2,579 34 

May 7, 1897, said sum of 218 77 

April 14, 1898, interest for one year on said $25,000 Beech 
Creek R. R. Co. 5% bonds collected by 
United States Trust Co., less $75 commis- 
sions of said company 1,175 00 

May 24, 1899, interest for one year on said bonds, collected 
by United States Trust Co., less $75 com- 
missions of said company 1,175 00 

July, 1897, dividends for eight years on said 327 shares 

to ($50 each) of Morris and Essex R. R. Co., 

Jan., 1905, at 7% 9,156 00 

Ang. 24, 1899, a deposit of cash received from John Arm- 
strong Chaloner 2 00 

Total deposits $14,306 11 

The said attorneys withdrew from said account for the support 
of a student, one Lawton S. Parker, sent abroad pursuant to the said 
trust plan, and for expenses of the said trust, certain sums as follows: 

May 6, 1897, Lawton S. Parker (draft) $ 450 00 

Sep. 16, " " " " 450 00 

Dec. 10, 1897, De Vinne & Co., for printing 10 20 

May 16, 1898, Lawton S. Parker (draft) 450 OO 

Oct. 26, " " " " 450 00 

May 23, 1899, " " " 450 00 

Oct. 23, " " " " 450 00 

Feb. 9, 1900, " " " 450 00 

Sep. 22, " " " " 450 00 

May 29, 1901, " " " 450 00 

Total withdrawals $ 4,060 20 

leaving a balance of cash in said account, exclusive of interest, 

of $10,245 91 

Thereafter, on June 19, 1905, the said Stanford White no longer 
desiring to act at attorney as aforesaid, the said account in The Mer- 
cantile Trust Companp was transferred to the credit of "Augustus St. 
Gaudens or Charles F. McKim." On September 10, 1907, the said 


Mercantile Trust Company rendered to the plaintiff herein at his 
request a statement of said account, which statement showed the 
deposits therein and withdrawals therefrom to be as hereinbefore set 
forth, and that said company had credited interest upon the balance 

in said account, to September 10, 1907, in the amount of $ 1,712 25 

and that the amount standing to the credit of said account 

on September 10, 1907, was $11,958 16 

The said Mercantile Trust Company was thereafter merged into 
or consolidated with the defendant Bankers Trust Company, and the 
said Bankers Trust Company received the said deposits and took over 
the said account and assumed all of the obligations of the said Mer- 
cantile Trust Company in respect thereto. Each of the said Stanford 
White, Augustus St. Gaudens and Charles F. McKim is now deceased. 
No withdrawals have been made from said account except as herein- 
before set forth, and the said sum of $11,958.16, together with interest 
at the rate allowed by the said companies upon deposits of like 
amount, up to the time when the said deposits shall be withdrawn 
by the person or persons authorized thereto by judgment of this 
Court, is and will be due from the said Bankers Trust Company upon 
the said account. The said Bankers Trust Company at the request 
of the plaintiff herein, has stated to him that the balance of cash on 
deposit with it to the credit of said account, with accrued interest to 
December 31, 1914, amounts to $14,494.59. 

Seventh. By virtue of said power of attorney, the said Stanford 
White received from the Morris and Essex Railroad Company the 
dividends at the rate of seven per cent, per annum declared by said 
company on the said 327 shares of its capital stock, payable in July, 
1905, and in January, 1906, amounting to $1,144.50, and delivered the 
said sum to the plaintiff herein, and the said plaintiff in his name as 
Committee as aforesaid, on January 16, 1906, deposited the said sum 
of $1,144.50 to the credit of an account with The Farmers' Loan and 
Trust Company, at interest, and received and holds a certificate for 
such deposit, and the said sum, together with interest to the time when 
the said deposit shall be withdrawn by the person or persons author- 
ized thereto by judgment of this Court, is and will be due from The 
Farmers' Loan and Trust Company upon the said account. 

Eighth. Since the said payment of January, 1906, no dividends 
have been paid by the Morris and Essex Railroad Company upon the 
said 327 shares of its capital stock, although dividends at the rate of 
'seven per cent, per annum have been in each year declared and are 
payable upon the said shares of stock. The dividends declared upon 
the said shares of stock and withheld by the said railroad company, 
including the dividend payable in January, 1915, amount to $9,728.25, 
and the said sum, together with such further dividends as may be de- 
clared and payable upon the said shares of stock, to the time when 
the said dividends shall be paid to the person or persona authorized 
thereto by judgment of this Court, is and will be due upon the said 
shares of stock from the Morris and Essex Railroad Company. 


Xinth. Since the aforesaid withdrawals by Stanford White and 
Augiisrus St. Gaudens from the defendant United States Tmst Com- 
pany, no withdrawals have been made from the said "'Paris Prize 
Fund" accotmt, and the said United States Trust Company continues 
to hold the said stock and bonds to the credit of the said account, and 
to collect the interest on the said bonds as the same becomes payable, 
and to credit interest uiwn the cash balance of said account. The 
said stock and bonds, together with the interest so collected and 
credited to the time when the said account shall be withdrawn by the 
person or persons authorized thereto by judgment of this Court, less 
the proper commissions for the collection of interest on said bonds, is 
and will be due from the said United States Trust Company upon the 
said account. The said United States Trust Company, at the request 
of the plaintiff herein, stated to him on January 11, 1915, that the 
cash balance to the credit of said ac-count, in addition to said stock 
and bonds, amounted to S21,S9S.13, bearing interest at the rate of two 
and one-half per cent, per annum. ^ 

Tentli. The said Laura Astor Delano died .June 15, 1902, leaving a 
will which was duly proved before and admitted to probate by the 
Surrogates" Court of the County of New York, to which court juris- 
diction in that behalf appertained, and thereafter letters testamentary 
under said will were duly issued by the said Surrogates" Court to the 
defendant Warren Delano, Jtmior, and to others since deceased, and 
the said Warren Delano. Junior, is the sole surviving executor of 
said will. 

Ele^^7ith. The said Cornelius Vanderbilt died September 12. 1S99, 
leaving a will which was duly proved before and admitted to probate 
by the Surrogates" Court of the County of Xew York, to which court 
jurisdiction in that behalf appertained, and thereafter letters testa- 
mentary under said will were duly issued by the said Surrogates' 
Court to Edward Y. W. Rossiter, since deceased, and to the defendants 
Alice G. Vanderbilt. William K. Yanderbilt, Alfred G. Yanderbilt. Reg- 
inald C. Vanderbilt and Chauncey M. Depe^. who are the only sur- 
viving executors of said will. 

Twelfth. The said Henry R. A. Carey died April 29, 1895, leaving 
a will which was duly proved before and admitted to probate by the 
Probate Court of the City of Newport in the State of Rhode Island, to 
which court jurisdic-tlon in that behalf appertained, and thereafter 
letters testamentary under said will were duly issued by the said 
Probate Court to the defndant Arthur Astor Carey, who is the sole 
executor of said will. 

Thirteenn.. The said William Astor died April 25. 1S92. leaving a 
will which was duly proved before and admitted to probate by the 

"Adding up the assets of the "Paris Prize Fund"" will show that 
said Fund amounted to some ninety-six thousand dollars on January 
11th last. And by January 11th next will amount to some hundred 
thousand dollars. — J. A. C. 


Surrogates' Court of the County of New York, to which court juris- 
diction in that behu,lf appertained, and letters testamentary under 
said " 'ill were duly issuel by the said Surrogates' Court to the execu- 
tors named therein. Thereafter, in accordance with the provisions 
of said will in that behalf, other executors thereof were duly appointed 
and have acted as such, including the defendants James R. Roosevelt 
and Douglas Robinson, who are the only surviving executors of said 

Fourteenth. The Attorney General of the State of New York is 
made a party to this action as representing the beneficiaries of said 
trust, pursuant to the provisions of Section 12 of the Personal Prop- 
erty Law; and the contributors and the representatives of the deceased 
contributors to said fund are made parties hereto for the purpose of 
determining their rights, if any, in the said fund and the moneys de- 
rived therefrom, in the event that the said trust shall not be declared, 
established or enforced. 

Fifteenth. The said defendant Bankers Trust Company has re- 
cently called the attention of the plaintiff to the fact that the interest 
on the moneys deposited with it as aforesaid is accumulating, and that 
no person claims the right to withdraw the said deposits, and has 
stated to the plaintiff that if he would not bring an action for the 
appointment of a trustee or trustees authorized to receive the said 
deposits, the said Trust Company would itself institute an action or 
proceeding for the appointment of a trustee of the moneys due upon 
the said account. The plaintiff herein, as Committee as aforesaid, has 
annually filed as required by law his inventory and account in the 
office of the Clerk of the County of New York, and has included in 
said account a brief statement in respect to said "Paris Prize Fund," 
and a statement of the sum received by him and deposited with The 
Farmers' Loan and Trust Company as aforesaid. Pursuant to an 
order of the Presiding Justice of the Appellate Division of the Supreme 
Court, First Department, dated February 28, 1911, and filed in the 
office of the Clerk of said Appellate Division on March 3, 1911, by 
VN-hich order Lyttleton Fox, Esq., was appointed Referee to examine 
the invento: es and accounts filed or required to be filed in the office 
Gf»the Clerk "^f the County of New York, in accordance with Section 
2341 of the Code of Civil Procedure, by the Committees of the person 
and property of incompetent persons, since the first day of February, 
1910, and whereby he was also directed to examine the inventories 
and accounts of such Committees filed or required to be filed during 
the month of January in each year subsequent to the year 1898, in 
the said County Clerk's office which had not previously been examined 
or judicially settled, and to make his report upon said inventories 
and accounts with his opinion in each case, the said Referee, after 
a hearing upon and examination of the accounts of the plaintiff as 
such Committee so filed as aforesaid on January 31, 1910, and on 
January 31, 1911, covering the period from January 30, 1909, to Janu- 


ary 31, 1911. by his report dated December 27, 1911, reported, among 
other things, that the plaintiff herein, as Committee as aforesaid 
"should be directed to take such immediate steps as he shall be advised 
by counsel as proper and necessary for the purpose of ascertaining 
the rights of the incompetent in the fund heretofore mentioned and 
described as the 'Paris Prize Fund," and in the income thereof, and 
of reducing to possession such part, if any, of such fund and the in- 
come thereof, as shall be found to belong to the incompetent"; and 
by order of the said Presiding Justice of said Appellate Division, dated 
June 24, 1912, and filed in the office of the Clerk of said Appellate 
Di\asion on June 25, 1912, the said report of said Referee was in all 
respects confirmed. The said fund and deposits and the dividends 
due as aforesaid have for a long time been accumulating without use 
either to the contributors or to the intended beneficiaries, and an 
action or proceeding such as is contemplated by the Bankers Trust 
Company for the appointment of a trustee of only such part of the 
moneys as is deposited with said company, would not fully determine 
the rights of the said contributors, nor the rights, powers and duties 
of the plaintiff as Committee in respect to the said fund and income. 
The plaintiff' has advised with counsel as directed by said Referee's 
report and the said order confirming the same, and he has been 
advised that the "said trust is probably valid as a charitable trust, and 
that in order to determine the interest, if any, of the said incompetent, 
and his own rights, powers and duties as Committee, in the premises, 
he should institute this action for the purpose of having the said 
trust established and enforced, if the same is enforcible, and of deter- 
mining the respective rights, if any. of the parties hereto, in the 

Wherefore, the plaintiff' demands judgment that the said trust be 
judicially declared, established and enforced in accordance with the 
aforesaid declaration of trust, or, with the consent of the survivors 
of the said contributors, in such manner as in the judgment of the 
Court will most effectually accomplish the general purpose for which 
the said contributions were made, and that a trustee or trustees of 
said trust be appointed, with power and authority to execute the said 
trust and to receive, collect and hold the said fund, deposits, stock, 
bonds, and the moneys and interest derived therefrom and due thereon 
as aforesaid, and that title thereto be vested in the said trustee or 
trustees subject to the trust as so declared: and that the said trustee 
or trustees be authorized, empowered and directed, if and when he 
or they shall deem it advisable, to cause a corporation to be formed 
under the Membership Corporations Law for the purpose of exe- 
cuting said trust and for that purpose to select five or more per- 
sons to become incorporators of such corporation, who shall make, 
acknowledge and file a certificate of incorporation thereof, according 
to the provisions of law in that behalf, such certificate not to be 
filed without the written approval of a justice of this Court en- 


dorsed thereupon or annexed thereto, and to convey, transfer and 
deliver the said trust property to such corporation; or if the said 
trust be not so established and enforced, that the rights of the parties 
hereto in and to the said fund and moneys, and the rights, powers 
and duties of the plaintiff as Committee as aforesaid in respect thereto, 
be determined, declared and adjudged; that the costs of the plaintiff 
in this action be paid out of the said fund, and that the plaintiff have 
such other or further judgment, order or relief in the premises as to 
the Court may seem meet. 


Attorneys for Plaintiff. 

S^ATE OF Nevv^ York, | 

County of New York, | ^^.i 

Thomas T. Sherman, being duly sworn, deposes and says: that 
he is the plaintiff in the above-entitled action; that he has read the 
foregoing complaint and knows the contents thereof, and that the 
same is true to his own knowledge, except as to the matters therein 
stated to be alleged on information and belief, and that as to those 
matters he believes it to be true. 


Sworn to before me this | 

8th day of April, 1915. ] 

Notary Public, Queens County, 
Certificate filed in New York County. 


Allen W. Evarts, Counsel. 

Thomas T. Sherman, 
Herbert J. Blckford, 
Joseph H. Choate, Jr. 

Cable Address "'Evarts," New York. 
Telephone 6890 Hanover. 

April 5, 1915. 
John Armstrong Chaloner, Esq., 
Merry Mills, 

Cobham, Virginia. 
Dear Mr. Chaloner: — 

I have your letter of March 19th and will return the enclosures 
in a short time. 


I think you have misunderstood the situation. As you will see 
from the complaint, a copy of which I enclose, the sole purpose of the 
suit is to secure the carrying out of your plan as originally stated 
by you. 

I note that you consider the present an inappropriate time for 
this proceeding but for the reasons stated in my letter of February 
8th to Mr. Money,t it is necessary to proceed within a short time. 

I have also considered your suggestion that the Court be asked 
to order the Bankers Trust Company to turn the money over to the 
United iStates Trust Company to be held with the rest of the fund. 1 
am satisfied, however, that this could not be don© in such a manner as 
to dispose of the objections of the Bankers Trust Company. 
Yours very truly, 

J. H. C, JR. 


tThe member of our office force above referred to as having been 
written to — in the premises — by Joseph H. Choate, Jr. 


An examination of the above two interesting documents sheds a 
bright light upon the dark lantern methods of Messrs. Thomas T. 
Sherman and his eminent legal adviser, Joseph H, Choate, Jr. 

We shall first consider the Complaint. 

The first thing that strikes the observer therein, is that the actual 
value of the 3Iorris and Essex stock is disguised, bp giving in its place 
the par value thereof — which par value is some nine thousand dollars 
below its actual value. This, naturally indicates a desire upon the 
part of Messrs. Sherman and Choate to avoid stating the really form- 
idable sum represented by the Paris Prize — which sum is jeopardized 
by their aforesaid nefarious methods in the premises. 

Furthermore said conclusion is strengthened by the fact that said 
gentlemen studiously avoid stating the total value of the Prize which 
is — or will in six months — by which time the interest thereon will have 
accrued, thus be worth some one hundred thousand dollars. 

The next thing tliat strikes the observer is that Messrs. Sherman 
and Choate make haste to feather their nests at the very inception of 
said nefarious game, by the following statement — page 217 of said 
complaint — to wit: "that the costs of the plaintiff in this action be 
paid out of the said fund." 

This means a fat fee to Joseph H. Choate, Jr. — a fee anywhere, 
presumably, from one thousand dollars up — for bringing this nefarious 
"strike" suit. 

The last thing that strikes the observer is that even Sherman 
and Choate admit that the Paris Prize is a creditable performance 
upon the part of "Who's Looney Now?" 

It may not be out of place to observe that the "Paris Prize" 
concours (or competitions) described on pages five and six of said 
Complaint — was conceived and committed to print in the month of 
December, 1896, by "Who's Looney Now?" whereas this farcical con- 
spiracy upon the part of the Chanler family to make out "Who's 
Looney Now?" an "incompetent" by reason of hopeless lunacy, states 
in its Commitment Papers that "Who's Looney Now?" began to be 
"looney' in Xovemher. 1896. 

In closing the examination of the Complaint we shall draw the 
attention of the Newspapers to the salient fact, that this diabolical 
plot against the liberty, property, and happiness of an indisputably 
sane man — on the record of the conspirators — on the record of the 


Proceedings brought by them in the New York Supreme Court — which 
shows that the charges against the sanity of the plaintiff in Chaloner 
against Sherman were perjured — and who merely hang on to his prop- 
erty in the desperate hope to win out on a flimsy, transparent, discred- 
itable legal technicality — we shall draw the attention of the press to 
the salient fact that this plot has not only cost an upright — and on 
his record — as the Founder of a hundred thousand dollar An Educa- 
tional Scholarship — that this plot has not only robbed an upright 
and public-spirited citizen of — going on — nineteen years of the enjoy- 
ment of his good name and that of his large property — but that this 
diabolical and sordid plot has rodhed Art Education in the metropolis 
of this country — in which Education is the national aim — of thousands 
of dollars for years and years. 

The reason is not far to seek. 

It was to the obvious advantage of the conspirators and their 
legal allies to sink from public view anything which could redouna 
to the credit of "Who's Looney Now?" Therefore — though there were 
thousands of dollars rolling up as income from the corpus of the Paris 
Prize Fund, and though the scheme for the practical working thereof 
had sent two Paris Prizemen — each for five years — one after the 
other — to Paris — and was in full vs-orking order — yet and nevertheless 
the machinery of the Paris Prize was relentlessly clogged and shut 
down by the malevolent parties having control of the person and 
estate of "Who's Looney Now^?" by grace of the learned and enlightened 
courts of New York. 

Turning now to the examination of said letter from Mr. Joseph H. 
Choate, Jr. 

We regret to have to state that "for ways that are dark, and for 
tricks that are vain, the heathen (Joe Choate) is peculiar." 

The same we shall straightway explain. 

He starts off, in said letter, with a most brazen false-statement, to 
begin with. 

He has the gall to say to a lawyer: "I think you have misunder- 
stood the situation. As you will see from the Complaint — the sole 
purpose of the suit is to secure the carrying out of your plan as 
originally stated by you." 

If the reader will now turn to the top of page 217 of said 
Complaint, he will find the following sinister w^ords staring him in 
the face. To wit: "or if the said trust be not so established and 
enforced, that the rights of the parties hereto in and to the said fund 
and moneys, and the rights, powers and duties of the plaintiff as com- 
mittee as aforesaid in respect thereto, be determined, declared and 

Being interpreted said Delphic utterance means — in the identical 
language of Mr. Joseph H. Choate, Jr., himself as set forth in his said 
letter to Mr. Money — of our office — under date February 8, 1915 — ''its 
return to the subscj'ibers."' 


It is an old and revered proverb which says — "a liar should have 
a good tnemory." Evidently a powerful memory is not to be found 
among Mr. Joseph H. Choate, Jr's mental assets. For how otherwise 
could he have the gall to say — as he does — "the sole purpose of the 
suit is to secure the carrying out of your plan as originally stated by 
you" — when, only two short months prior thereto, he had been frank 
to say in said letter to Mr. Money: "In such an action the court can 
dispose of the Fund — by directing its return to the subscribers." In 
a word — &?/ its total and complete destruction! Comment would be a 
work of supererogation. 

"Who's Looney Now?" being a lawj^er, at once penetrated the 
dangers surrounding the work — now a quarter of a century old — of 
his hands; and straightway wrote the long — and sufficiently frank — 
letter to Mr. Joseph H. Choate, Jr., given above, pointing out said 

But when it is borne in mind that Mr. Sherman claims — as afore- 
said — in said brief that "Who's Looney Now's?" property vests in him 
— Sherman — in other and less technical words — becomes the property 
of Mr. Sherman — a bright light is immediately shed upon the said 
dark lantern methods of Messrs. Sherman and Choate anent the Paris 

For "Who's Looney Now's?" subscription thereto — as aforesaid — 
now amounts to the formidable sum of some seventy-five thousand 
dollars; which seventy-five thousand dollars — upon its "return to the 
subscribers" — as engagingly frankly outlined by ;Mr. Choate — which 
seventy-five thousand dollars would revert to Mr. Sherman upon his 
charming hypothesis aforesaid that all ''Who's Looney Now'sF" prop- 
erty vests in him — Mr. Sherman! 

Mr. Choate continues. "I note that you consider the present an 
inappropriate time for this proceeding, but for the reasons stated in 
my letter of February 8th to Mr. Money, it is necessary to proceed 
within a short time." 

How redolent said sentences is of guile! It fairly reeks therewith. 

In our said letter to Mr. Choate it was not the time of bringing 
before the court the question of saying where the said income-incre- 
ment held by the Bankers Trust Company should go, that exercised 
us; but the manner in which said question was put before the court. 
Not the settling of that subsidiary and insignificant side issue — - 
subsidiary and insignificant when the amount involved is compared 
with the amount originally placed by ourselves in the United States 
Trust Company — not that, but the criminally culpable act of jeopard- 
izing the very existence of the hundred thousand dollar Paris Prize 
Fund, by the manner in which a question regarding the disposal of 
some ten thousand or more dollars of its income ivas wittingly, wil- 
fully — and after full and fair warning of the dangers accruing to the 
Fund thereby — had been duly given in our above letter to Mr. Choate — 
wa^ allovjed to go before the court. 


Mr. Choate concludes his interesting epistle as follows: "I have 
also considered your suggestion that the Court be asked to order the 
Bankers Trust Company to turn the money over to the United States 
Trust Company to be held with the rest of the Fund. I am satisfied, 
however, that this could not be done in such a manner as to dispose 
of the objections of the Bankers Trust Company." 

All we have to say in reply to that amazing statement is that if 
Mr. Choate is so satisfied, no honest and learned lawyer cognizant of 
the facts at issue could be, what earthly objections could the Bank- 
ers Trust Company — or any honest Trust Company — possibly, righthj, 
have to returning an income-account to the keeping of the Trust Com- 
pany which for years — twenty-five years, no less — had guarded the 
parent Fund, from which said interest account had sprung, as faith- 
fully and well as had the United States Trust Company? 

Certainly no objection — unless said Bankers Trust Company in- 
tended to hang onto the said interest-increment account, possibly 
until it absorbed the United States Trust Company, as it had ab- 
sorbed the Trust Company originally holding said interest-increment 
account. Which^ — when one bears in mind the age, wealth, and deserved 
fame of the United States Trust Company — when weighed with that 
of the Bankers Trust Company — strikes us as about as likely as that 
the tail should absorb the dog. 

We are forced to the conclusion — bearing in mind ail the unscrupu- 
lous acts of Messrs. Choate and Sherman in their long career of ques- 
tionable practice — to use no harsher term — to blacken the character 
of "Who's Looney Now?" in the eyes of the public, in order that they 
may avenge themselves on him for showing them up in "Four Years 
Behind The Bars" — avenge "Bloomingdale" on him for the same 
cause — and, lastly, hang onto his million and a half, and shave four 
thousand dollars therefrom annually — not counting extra fees, com- 
missions, legal fees, et cetera, and so forth — we are forced to the 
inevitable conclusion, that said suit is nothing more than a suit en- 
gineered by Messrs. Choate and Sherman, who have induced — by what 
means we know not — the said Bankers Trust Company to threaten to 
bring a suit disastrous in its consequences as aforesaid — to the wel- 
fare — the very life — of the Paris Prize. For two reasons. 

First. For the reason of avarice. For the reason set forth above 
that they claim that "Who's Looney Now's?" property belongs to Mr. 
Sherman, and by said "strike" suit the Paris Prize may be destroyed 
and some seventy-five thousand dollars turned into the yawning pock- 
ets of Mr. Thomas T. Sherman. 

Second. For reasons of spite. They know that their days are 
numbered — now that the appeal in Chaloner against Sherman is filed 
in the Supreme Court of the United States — as "custodians" of "Who's 
Looney Now's?" million and a half. They know — for we have been 
at pains to show them in our brief — that the United States Supreme 
Court has decided in Windsor versu)s McVeigh, United States Reports, 


93^ — in which decision the great civil war Chief Justice — ^Chief Justice 
Waite concurred — as well as in Simon versus Craft, United States 
Reports, 182, in which case the opinion of the court was written by 
the present Mr. Chief Justice White, before he became Chief Justice, 
that it was decided specifically that notice of the proceedings against 
a party to a suit, as well as opportunity to appear and be heard in 
defence to the same, were absolutely and unequivocally essential to due 
process of law. The language of the court in the former suit was — 
pages 277-8 "Until notice is given, the court has no jurisdiction in any 
case to proceed to judgment, whatever its authority may l)e, by the 
law of its organization, over the subject matter. But notice is only 
for the purpose of affording the party an opportunity of being heard 
upon the claim or the charges made. It is a summons to him to ap- 
pear and to speak, if he has anything to say, why judgment sought 
should not be rendered. A denial to a party of the benefit of a notice 
would be in effect to deny that he is entitled to notice at all, and the 
9ham and deceptive proceedings had better be omitted altogether."' 
And again at page 278: "The law is and always has been that when- 
ever notice or citation is required the party cited has the right to 
appear and be heard; and when the latter is denied {note the dis- 
tinction between notice and opportunity) the former is ineffectual for 
any purpose. The denial to a party in such a case of a right to appear 
is in legal effect the recall of the citation to him." 

In Simon versus Craft aforesaid, the court said, "The essential 
elements of due process of law are notice, and opportunity to defend." 

Now the Commitment Papers — on file in the New York Supreme 
Court — show that in the Committing Proceedings, when the plaintiff 
in Chaloner against Sherman was arrested in 1897 and imprisoned in 
"Bloomingdale" — specifically ^tate on their face that no notice of said 
Proceedings was given said plaintiff. 

The reason given being that he ivas so dangerous an individual 
that notice to him would be accomplished by grave danger! 

Now the record of the Proceedings in 1899 before a Commission 
In Lunacy and Sheriff's Jury — also on file in the same court — shows 
that the plaintiff in Chaloner against Sherman was in bed with an 
affectation of the spine at the time of said Proceedings — had been in 
bed with the same trouble for three iveeks p7-evious thereto and had 
sent word to said Commission and Sheriff's Jury — by Dr. Samuel B. 
Lyon — the medical Superintendent of "Bloomingdale" at said time — 
that he Vv'as unable to be present at said Proceedings oioing to his said 

In spite of which, said Commission and said Jury went right ahead 
and — although the liberty and happiness of a law-abiding citizen was 
at stake — to say nothing of hundreds of thousands of dollars of valu- 
able real estate — said Commission and said Jury rushed the Proceed- 
ings through inside of abmit an honr and a half, and imprisoned the 
plaintiff for life vjithout the least opportunity — as above indicated — to 
appear and be heard. 


JLastly. There is a third leading United States Supreme Court 
case that has an important bearing upon the interesting case of 
Chaloner against Sherman. 

Said case is known as the United States appt. versus Throckmor- 
ton. United States Reports 98 (October term 1878): "Mr. Justice 
Miller said: There is no question of the general doctrine that fraud 
vitiates the most solemn contracts, documents and even jtidgments — 
in cases where, hy reason of something done hy the successful party to 
a suit, there wa^, in fact, no adversary trial or decision of the issue 
in the case. Where the unsuccessful party has heen prevented from 
exhiMting fully his case, hy fraud)^ or deception practised on him hy 
his opponent, as dy keeping him away from court, a false promise of 
a compromise ; or where the defendant never had knowledge of the 
suit, 'being kept in ignorance ty the acts of the plaintiff ; — these, and 
similar cases which show that there has never been a real contest in 
the trial or* hearing of the case, are reasons for which a new suit may 
be s^istained to set aside and annul the former judgment or decree, 
and open the case for a neio and a fair hearing. In all these cases 
and man3^ others which have been examined, relief has been granted, 
on the grounds that, by some fraud practised directly upon the party 
seeking relief against the judgment or decree, that party has been 
prevented from presenting all of his case to the court. On the other 
hand, the doctrine is equally well settled that the court will not set 
aside a judgment because it was founded on a fraudulent instrument, 
or perjured evidence, or for any matter which was actually presented 
and considered in the pudgment assailed. Mr, Wells, in his very useful 
work on Res Adjudicat, says, sec. 499: "Fraud vitiates everything, and 
a judgment, equally with a contract; that is, a judgment obtained di- 
rectly by fraud" — ^The principle and the distinction here taken was laid 
down as long ago as the year 1702 by' the Lord Keeper in the High 
Court of Chancery, in the case of Tovey v. Young, Proc. in Ch., 193. 
This was a bill in chancery brought by an unsuccessful party to a 
suit at law, for a new trial, which was at that time a very common 
mode of obtaining a nev/ trial. One of the grounds of the bill was, 
that complainant had discovered since the trial was had that the prin- 
cipal witness against him was a partner in interest with the other 

The Lord Keeper said: "New matter may in some cases be ground 
for relief; but it must not be what was tried before; nor, when it con- 
sists in swearing only, will I ever grant a new trial, unless it appears 
by deed, or writing, or that a witness, on whose testimony the verdict 
was given, were convict of perjury.'"' As is conclusively proved by the 
originator of the said principle — namely the Lord Keeper — the perjury 
of a witness "on whose testimony the verdict was given" must be dis- 
covered and charged not during but after the said trial. 

In other words, the perjury must not have been knoivn to be per- 
jury — and as perjury — to have been considered by the court during 
said trial. The perjured witness — in a word — gives his perjured testi- 


mony, upon which "the verdict was given," without either the Court 
or the other side knowing at the time of the trial that same was per- 
jured. Thereafter said discovery is made, and a new trial granted on 
the strength of the newly discovered perjury. 

Mr. Choate attempts to show by this very case of UniteS States 
vs, Throckmorton that provided a witness has perjured himself in a 
given trial — and no matter that neither the other side, nor the court, 
kneiv at the time of said trial that said witness was a perjured witness, 
yet nevertheless because the witness gave his said perjured testimony 
as aforesaid at said trial, that therefore the question of the perjury of 
said witness was ipso facto necessarily "actually presented and consid- 
ered" in said trial as perjury. Whereas, the truth is, the direct antithe- 
sis thereof! Namely: That said perjury, not having been discovered at 
the time of said trial, it could not have been "presented'' at said trial. 
Not having been "presented" it necessarily could not have been ''con- 

And although neither the court nor the other side knew at the 
time of said trial that it was perjury: that therefore when — after said 
trial — Q^ new trial is sought upon the ground — upon the totally new 
question — of the perjury of said witness — that a new trial cannot be 
granted because the said perjury — although unknown and unhinted at 
at said\ trial — "was actually presented and considered" at said trial! 
when — in truth — it had 'been neither one nor the OTHER. 

In other words — according to the mighty legal mental processes 
of Mr. Joseph H. Choate, Jr. — if a perjured witness^— unbeknown to the 
court and other side — perjures himself at a given trial and "gets av/ay 
with it" — gets the court and other side to believe it — that therefore — 
thereafter — when the other side catches up with the perjurer, and 
moves for a new^ trial — that — because the perjurer has — unbeknown to 
the court and other side — perjured himself successfully — which is to 
say, of course, wdthout being caught — that — according to Mr. Choate — 
when said perjurer is "caught with the goods" — his crooked and slick 
work — when discovered — cannot be taken into consideration by the 
court — cannot be "considered"! 

Let us hear Mr. Choate speak for himself on this interesting and 
elevating subject. We cite from page eleven of his brief, in Chaloner 
against Sherman, to the United States Circuit Court of Appeals for the 
Southern District of New York — New York City. 

"An examination of the offers of evidence made by the plaintiff- 
in-error, the questions asked and excluded, and, indeed, of the excluded 
evidence itself, as it appears in the depositions which were marked 
for identification, will show that the alleged fraud complained of con- 
sisted in the giving of testimony, alleged to he false, in the affidavits 
upon which the commitment was had (in 1897) and in the evidence 
upon which the plaintiff was adjudged incompetent in 1899. The al- 
leged conspiracy appears to have been a conspiracy of the relatives of 
the plaintiff-in-error to deceive the Court by such perjury into deciding 


a* 1/ did dcyide. Such fraud, however, if proved, is no basis for a 
collateral attack upon an adjudication. The question whether the testi- 
money. given in support of one side of the case, is or is not true, is one 
of the questions necessarily adjudged in every litigation. In the case 
at bar thequestion whether the alleged perjurious testimony was true 
was necessarili/ adjudged by the Supreme Court of the State of New 
York in finding the plaintiff-in-error incompetent. This Court could 
not determine whether or not the testimony in question was perjured 
without trying over again the very same issue which the New York 
Supreme Court decided when it made the order complained of. In 
acc-ordanc-e with these principles it is well settled that the fact that a 
judgm^it is procured by false testimony does not open it to collateral 
attack. U. S. v. Throckmorton. 98 U. S., 61." 

To conclude. The perjury of Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler in the 
Commitment Proc-eedings in 1S97. aforesaid, is proved upon him in 
the cross-examination of that gentleman, by our counsel, in a Deposi- 
tion d^ hene esse given by Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler in or about 
November, 190-5 — on file in the New York Supreme Court 

Said gentlemcm swore in said Commitment Proceedings — said 
Commitment Papers — that he had heard and seen the plaintiff in Chaf- 
oner against Sherman *ciy and do irrational things at the said plaintiff's 
home in Tirginia. Upon the strength of which false oath "the verdict 
was given," and the plaintiff lost his liberty and the control of. and 
enjoyment of his property for years and years. Whereas in said 
Proceedings in 1905, de bene esse, said gentleman admitted on the 
stand — ^under cross-examination — that he had never in his life been 
at. or in. said home of said plaintiff in Virginia! 

The said leading cases of Windsor versus McVeigh: Simon versus 
Craft: and United States versus Throclnnorton : therefore fit like a 
glove Chaloner against Sherman. 

The first two prove that •'notice.'* and "opportunity." are essential 
to due process of laic. 

The Commitment Papers show on their fac-e that the plaintiff had 
no "notice.'" in said Proceedings in 1S9T. 

The Record in the New York Supreme Court shows, on its face. 
that the plaintiff was physically Incapacitated — was in bed with spinal 
trouble when the 1899 Proceedings were brought, and had been for 
three weeks before the 1S99 I*roceedings were brought — was incapaci- 
tated from taking a forty mile railway journey — twenty miles to New 
York and twenty miles back to White Plains where "Bloomingdale" 
is — to said Proceedings, before the Commission-In-Lunacy and Sheriffs 
.Jury in 1899. Or. in other words, did not have an '"opportunity." to 
appear and be heard — owing to illness — at said Proceedings. 

The third proves: that a new trial may be had where "a u^itness. 
an whose testimony the verdict teas given, was convict of perjury." 

Mr. Winthrop Astor Chanler — "on whose testimony the verdict tros 
given" — was — as above shown — "convict of perjury." 


On said three cases hang all the Law and the Prophets in Ghaloner 
against Sherman. 

The above interesting testimony "Who's Looney Now?" and his 
battle scarred lawyers have been striving for years to get before the 
Federal court. But do what he and his lawyers may, the other side 
have been able, up to date, to stave off the day of reckoning and sepa- 
rate the court from the above testimony and other pieces of testimony 
fully as interesting. Now, however, that Ghaloner against Sherman is 
on the high road to the Supreme Court of the United States "Who's 
Looney Now?" looks for a verdict supporting the learned decision in 
his favour rendered by Judges Lacombe, Coxe and Noyes of the United 
States Circuit Court of Appeals, sustaining his claim that he had a 
constitutional right to try his case of Ghaloner against Sherman in the 
Federal courts. Nothing since said decision has occurred to shake 
"Who's Looney Now's?" faith therein. Ex- Judge Holt revolted and 
reversed the decision of his Appellate Court, the Federal Circuit Court 
of Appeals. For this "Who's Looney Now?" endeavored to get the 
learned Justice impeached at the hands of Congress. But before he 
could bring it to the attention of the Judiciary Committee of the House 
of Representatives Judge Holt resigned from the Bench. t He then ap- 
pealed and Judge Lacombe — the President of the Court — being in 
Europe — Judge Mayer was allowed to sit in his place. The Bench con- 
sisted of Judges Coxe, Rogers and Mayer. Judge Mayer wrote the 
opinion of the Court sustaining Judge Holt in revolting against and 
reversing his Superior Court. Now the interesting thing about said 
decision is that Judge Mayer is not a memJ)er of the United States Gir- 
cuit Gourt of Appeals, hut, on the contrary, comes from an Inferior 
Gourt named the United States District Gourt. Therefore an inferior 
Judge is allowed to write the opinion of a Superior Gourt; hy which 
said Superior Gourt is made to reverse itself; and, in so doing, is made 
to \sustain the opinion of an Inferior Gourt which had had the audac- 
ity to reverse it! Surely an interesting, not to say an amusing situa- 

"Revenons nous d nos moutons'' : as saith the great Rabelais. "Let 
us return to our sheep" — our hlacTc sheep — Messrs. Choate and Sher- 

As we observed some distance back, there are two reasons — two 
moving motives — back of Messrs. Choate and Sherman's bringing said 
murderous action against the very life of the Paris Prize Fund. 

The first has avarice as its main-spring. 

The second spite. 

On the strength of said three leading cases, said gentlemen are 
well aware that the United States Supreme Court will support our 

tWe do not desire to imply in the slightest degree that the learned 
Judge resigned "under fire." There was necessarily considerable delay 
in our said effort and considerable time elapsed between the decision 
of Judge Holt and his resignation aforesaid. 


contention, that all proceedings against our sanity in the New York 
Supreme Court are null and void for want of due process of law. Being 
null and void they have no existence in law, and can be attacked — as 
we have attacked same — in a Federal Court, without laying ourselves 
open to the charge of coUateraJ attack G^ainst valid proceedings in a 
State Court. As the United States Circuit Court of Appeals for the 
Southern District of Xew York — New York City — held in Chaloner 
against Sherman. 162 Federal Report (l&OS) — Judges Lacombe, Coxe 
and Noyes — in writing the opinion therein, the learned Judge Noyes 
said: '"The Constitution of the United States vests in its judicial de- 
partment, jurisdiction over controversies between citizens of different 
States. The petitioner fthe plaintiff) as a citizen of the State of 
Virginia, in bringing his said suit in the Circuit Court (since changed 
to the District Court) of the United States, was availing himself of a 
right founded upon this constitutional provision. And he came into 
that Court with a decree of the Court of the State of which he was a 
citizen declaring his sanity. We cannot disregard that decree.*' 

We therefore have a constitutional right to bring our case of 
Chriioner against Sherman — as we did eleven years ago — namely — in 
a Federal Court. 

Messrs. Choate and Sherman well know, therefore, that they are 
lost — since no one for a moment could suppose that the highest 
tribunal in the land will reverse itself — not only once — but — three times 
running — Jyut will support its own aforesaid three leading cases — all 
hearing directly upon the law and the facts as set forth in Chaloner 
against Sherman. 

Said reckless gentlemen, therefore — following their guide, philoso- 
pher, and friend the Devil — ^fc^ow out the lead by him given — as set 
forth in the Scriptures — ichen knowing his time is short — and stick 
at nothing which can vent their spite and malice upon "Who's L<ooney 
Now?" Therefore they bring this faked-up suit, in order — provided 
they cannot scatter the Paris Prize Fund's hundred thousand dollars, 
.^o that some seventy-five thousand there-of shall find their way into 
their pockets — on the amusing little fiction that all "Who's Looney 
Now's?" property vests in [Mr. Thomas T. Sherman — therefore they 
bring said faked-up malicious, and villainous, scoundrelly suit, to in- 
corporate said Paris Prize Fund — and do so while the Founder thereof 
cannot hy any possihle legal chance "be one of the Trustees — we being 
an "incompetent" person in the eye of the New York State Courts, at 

Could any more sinister comment — than are their own actions — be 
made upon the profession ornamented by Messrs. Joseph H. Choate. 
Jr., and Thomas T. Sherman? 

•Woe unto you ye lawyers": said the Founder of Christianity: 
now. nigh, two thousand years ago. 

And Messrs. Choate and Sherman, lawyers, show, that: time can- 
not wither, nor custom stale, their infinite rasality. 


Richmond Times-Dispatch. Richmond, Va., Monday, February 1, 1915. 


Committee's Report Shows New York Property is Valued 
at $1,473,000. 

The annual accounting of Thomas T. Sherman, committee of the 
property of John Armstrong Chaloner, was filed in the New York 
County Clerk's office on Saturday. It shows that Chaloner now owns 
property worth $1,473,000, from which the income for the past year 
was $89,692. The accounting shows that although Mr. Chaloner re- 
ceived $24,000, and his former wife, Amelie Rives, now Princess Trou- 
betzkoy,t got $3,600, the committee has $23,081 of income unexpended. 


iNot alimony — as many New York newspapers stated in noticing 
this item — but the continuation — after her re-marriage — of an allow- 
ance made said Princess before divorce had ever been mentioned. As 
is indicated by the total absence of alimony from the decree of the 
South Dakota Court, granting the divorce, on the grounds of incom- 
patibility of temper; in the autumn of 1895. Merely the friendly in- 
terest of an Art Patron — ^Founder of the Paris Prize aforesaid — in the 
future career of a writer and artist; with whom the said Art Patron 
had quarrelled : largely, because she refused to cultivate her great 
talent as a. portrait painter — her full length portrait en plaine aire 
(out of doors) of Robert Winthrop Chanler — so far back as 1890 — in 
Foutainebleau, France — being little short of a masterpiece. Said Art 
Patron held that her artistic gift^ was as far stronger than her lit- 
erary gift, as the sun is than the moon. Which indicates that her 
literary gift is redolent of charm — to say the least. But her literary 
gift lacks the power of creative force. The strongest trait therein is 
that which distinguished Keats, namely, the pictorial. 

Keats is not the poet of thought, hut of heauty — of painting in 
words. So she excels in that respect, but lacks the dramatic creative 
force necessary to create characters and scenes of a dramatic nature, 
which fill the following bill, to wit: are full of dramatic incident and 
at the same time said dramatic incident is true to life. 

Two works of hers fill said bill. "The Quick Or" The Dead" and 
"Tanis The Sand Digger." The first, a novel. The second, a novelette. 


The first, done in the winter of 1SS7 and eight, the second in that of 
1892 — and three. To these should be added her charming magazine 
stories, the late T, B. Aldrich liked so much — such as "A Brother To 
Dragons''; "Xurse Crumpet Tells The Tale'\: and "The Farrier Lass 
Of Piping Pebwortli." Beyond this, none of her literary work has 
satisfied said Art Patron, when measured by the side of her splendid 
artistic power. 

One of the best-known teachers of painting in Paris — Charles 
Lasar — an American — who has had an atelier (a studio) for American 
Art Students in Paris for years and years, and who is one of the 
soundest and best teachers of any nationality in Paris in Art to-day — 
had her under his instruction in Paris for two years — in 1SS9-1S91. 
When he had finished with her he said, "I can't teach her anything 
more in drawing." In other words, her drawing by that time was 
that of a master. Her eye for colour was as delicate and true as her 
eye for line. And, lastly, her ability for "catching a likeness" was 
utterly unequalled hy any portrait-painter in France, Great Britain 
or the United States — excepting neither Carlus Duran, in Paris, nor 
John S. Sargent, in London. 

She ivas so indolent that she buried this divine gift — vcrapped in 
a mortuary naplcin — in the ground of oblivion; and followed the sister 
Art of Literature: which enabled her to sit at her ease and work. 
Whereas portrait-painting requires standing up, and walking to and 
from the easel, all day long. "Hinc illae lachrymae!"' Hence these 

Herew^ith lifts the veil heretofore shrouding in Oriental mystery, 
that Grand Arcanum of The :Mysteries — the why and wherefore of the 
divorce of "Who's Looney Now?*' from his former gifted consort. 

Richmond Times-Dispatch, Saturday, May 1, 1915. 


Virginian Takes His Case to United States 
Supreme Conrt. 

Washington, April 30. — John Armstrong Chaloner, of Albemarle 
county, Va., to-day filed in the Supreme Court an appeal from the 
decision of the New York Federal Court which refused to declare void 
the proceedings in the New York State Courts by which Chaloner was 
adjudged incompetent and his property placed in the hands of a com- 

Chaloner seeks to recover damages from Thomas T. Sherman in 
charge of his affairs in New York, 


What the Law Reviews Have to Say about '* The 
Lunacy Law of the World/' 

By John Armstrong Chaloner, A. B., A. M., Member of the Bar. 


St. Paul, Minn., July, 1907. 

"The Palmetto Press, Roanoke Rapids, N. C, has printed a book on 
The Lunacy Law of the World,' by John Armstrong Chaloner, of the 
same place. It is an examination of the laws of the States and Terri- 
tories, and of the Six Great Powers of Europe, on this subject, and is in 
terms a very severe arraignment of most of them. It ivoiiM appear 
that the iniquitous system against tchich Charles Reade waged luar 
ha^ hy no means disappeared. People may still be incarcerated in 
insane asylums without notice, and without an opportunity to be 
heard, either in person or by attorney and once in an asylum, a 
patient has little protection against the keepers. They may be wise, 
and kind, but the instances of cruelty which occasionally reach the 
public indicate that this is not a safe assumption. Mr. Chaloner holds 
a brief for the accused, and puts his case very strongly, hut, in view 
of the cases he cites, it would he impossihle to state the matter too 
strongly. He says: 

. " 'A survey of the field of Lunacy legislation the world over pre- 
sents to-day an appalling spectacle. It affords, to put it mildly, the 
strongest card in favor of anarchy — of no law — ever laid upon the 
table of world-politics and throws into lamentable relief the fact that 
in about forty per cent, of the States and Territories of the United 
States neither the Bench — with many honourable exceptions — the Bar 
nor the Legislature, can be entrusted with safeguarding that funda- 
mental principle of liberty, the absolute rights of the individual.' 

"The hook should awaken puhlic interest in an important matter'^ 


Norwalk, Ohio, July 29, 1907. 
Chaloner, Lunacy Law of the World, 

"A criticism, of the practice of adjudging persons incompetent and 
depriving them of their liherties without due process of law, fortified 
hy decisions of the courts, is the theme upon ichich the author has de- 
veloped this interesting and instructive work. The lunacy law of all 
the States of the Union and six of the Great Powers of Europe are 


reTie~ri i- i Ej_r;ri=iiLz i? i: ^^^.j =erzi zLir : lil; ;; -._z S.^.es and 
Grea: Zriii- fail to reqnire notice of I'l- n isiioii to be give:i :iT 
allege i r ::: :r inoHnpetait; twentv-ioiir :; :i:^ States ani —r- 
iiiaiL7 ill- T^: Britain fail to afford him c;: :: l: 7 to appear ml 
be Lr :: 7 r aiaJtes U eameimxiT: Jt there is 

ne^z :>e 1otr9. Edited by J:_:^ -.rii^ : ir Chaloner, 

X. C. 

By Jolm --:i 
F::; is: ?.i;:i5. X. C. 

::i-i - jiTrr :; -:;— 1 ; =.: i^-jirs i-::i_TZ-: :: 1- -:. 1^ weU 

-i^ of the Itest and most 
r. z -::{:':: :' -'-':: -: ' ' : ; years. 

Zl- ; t : :: lizii; 1-^- — sir :f all tbe le?islati(HL we have 
iiii :z iLr iriiriir-is iiis r^Ti-fi liiilr iiiTZiiin. /« fact, it is 
hnle o^uer man tcher. _" .. eutUied 'Hard 

CashL From, the fact : f persoms are iur 

a^ahie of comfwftead : piace them 

t» cmstodjf, the cmstom '. i is needed 

to pJace them on trial as to their aan'r _ is : T_TZibered 

that in every State of the Union and in :i 1 iz. t t:; : n : of the 
world, fraud has been papetr£:ri :- —rz :L-i ^1^ l :: u^ri^Ls 7 
greedy relatives and the nnfomi^ it urs i m ;.S7- — s ;: =.: 

otho- purpose than to secure c-'ii. ::: i .: : 7:17 -— i vlt'l-z 

it should be ronembered that c-T n 1 ; izi : r : t -lz:: 
seenre a hearing of his right ic :rsi:-iii:z iir: .j:i. -.z.^ ml i. t ::" 
true friends he is forever barrT _t right to be heari -t is 

lost the standing of a dtts^i. 7/. /: .^ aufcA i« Ifr. Chal 
that shomtd he weU studied Jm everw lawwer amd legislator 
shomM he dome to seewre the eomstitatiomai rights of everg one oHesfd 
to he of nmsommd wUmd. 'Hie book carefully goes over the law of 
lunacy in the fcHiy-five States and Territories as well as that of the 
leading natitms of Bniope." 



Lancaster, Pa., September 30, 1907. 
"The Lunacy Law of the World, 

By John Armstrong Chaloner, Counsellor at Law. 
Palmetto Press, Roanoke Rapids, N. C. 

The work is a review of the lunacy laws of the States and Terri- 
tories of this country together with those of Great Britain, Prance, 
Italy, Germany, Austria and Russia, with a view of showing their de- 
fects — mainly in regard to affording proper protection to the alleged 

To those of us who have heen accustomed to looJii with compla- 
cency on our lunacy laws, remembering howi lunatics were thrown 
into dungeons and chained and tortured hut a short time ago, this 
hook brings home some startling truths. It shows clearly the dan- 
gers of that class of legislation in force in England and many of our 
States (as our own Act of April 2!0, 1869, P. L., 78), which permits an 
alleged lunatic to be incarcerated upon the certificate of 'tivo or more 
reputable physicians.' 

The author contends that in lunacy proceedings notice to the al- 
leged lunatic ought to be absolutely essential and that the trial should 
be by jury in the presence of the alleged lunatic; that any other prac- 
tice is a violation of his constitutional rights and dangerous, in that 
it might be used by designing relatives for fraudulent purposes. 

The importance of a jury trial in such cases has been recognized 
by Judge Bretvster in Com. ex rel. vs. Eirkbride, .2 Brewster, 402. 
Th^ writ of habeas corpus is not a sufficient safeguard. 

In setting forth the importance of allowing the alleged lunatic an 
opportunity to appear, the author says: 

"The test of sanity is a mental test wholly within the power of 
the accused to accomplish and without any witnesses, professional or 
lay, to back him up. Suppose two paid experts in insanity in the pay 
of the other side, swear defendant's mind cannot tell what his past 
history has been — that said defendant's mind is a total blank upon 
the subject. Would that professional and paid for and interested oath 
stand against the defendant's refutation thereof by taking the stand 
and promptly and lucidly giving his past history, provided he were 
afforded his legal privilege of taking the stand in place of being kept 
aw^ay from court and having to allow his liberty and property to be 
perjured away from him in his enforced absence?" (Page 217.) 

Collusion would be very difficult to prove. It has been held that 
no presumption arises from the fact that the parties certifying to the 
alleged lunacy were in fact mistaken. Williams vs. Le Bar, 114 Pa., 

The subject is an important and interesting one, and the book 
shows extensive and careful research. It is forcefully written and car- 
ries conviction." 



Xorthport. New York, Septemaer, 1907. 

"The Lunacy Law of the World, 

By John Armstrong Chaloner, 

Palmetto Press, Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina. 
The writer is assuredly earnest, . . . setting forth the unques- 
tionable abuses to which the state of the lunacy law has given rise. 
The exhaustiveness of his research into the question compels ad- 
miration; an author who can work through lunacy laws from the 
time of the Emperor Conrad down to the present." 



To his friend the brilliant Editor F. C. 


I am the modern David — that 's my claim. 
Apply t'our lives the deadly parallel 
And thou shalt see that sans the slightest blame 
He was forced to rmi the gauntlet of black Hell! 
Then song to him was given — Divine gift! 
With which to sing his woes and praise his God 
With which to sing life's lute and her sad rift 
With which to sing grim Saul — his iron rod! 
T'Adullam's Cave he then was forced to flee 
And gather there his future "Mighty Men'' 
In Adullam's Cave "The Merry Mills" ye see 
And as he drew the sword, draw I the pen. 
I call upon my God. Jehovah Jah! 
The Supreme Being! God the ''Man of War!" 


The mighty Goliath he first did slay — 

That haughty formidable Philistine — 

The boldest deed sun e'er shone on I say ! 

In days full modern or in days pristine. 

The modern Philistine's the Mad-House Trust 

'Which held me captive for four fetid years 

Hoping thereby my courage could be crusht 

Hoping my soul would drown herself in tears. 

David then fled an exile from his home 

And to save 's life did feign insanity 

I to save mine to th' Sunny South have come 

And tables turned ! Courts proved my sanity ! 

I call upon my God Jehovah Jah! 

"The God of Battles!'' God the "Man of War!" 



Goliath^ with the law as sUng, I'll slay! 

And cut his head ofl', and stamp on the same. 

As fighting- dog I sure shall have my day — 

Then from the world my meed of fame I'll claim! 

In His good time the Lord did conquer Saul — 

And that grand spirit nobly took his life 

Drowning his sorrows in a sea of gall 

Thus baffling Philistines o' th' fruits of strife ! 

David then entered on his glorious wars! 

And — King of Israel — did rule the land. 

His glory mounts for aye unto the stars! 

His name 's a household word on every hand ! 

David, as God said, was a "man of blood" 

So falls my pen on rogues with hloody thud! 


As David drew the sword, draw I the pen 

Poet-pen-militant! The pen of war! 

And with its edge draw I the blood of men 

A magic edge that slays or near or far ! 

Nought can escape me in the Universe! 

Kings, Potentates, and Princes^^ — MonarcJis all! 

For each a pit is digged within my verse 

For each is spread a winding-sheet — a pall. 

The rich and haughty are my chopping-block — 

The block on which my Headsman's axe doth strike — 

Their swollen heads and swollen guts I mock, 

My lictor's rods scourge fools whom I dislike! 

We crown ourselves THE KING OF WARLIKE VERSE 

And smile while hostile critics rave and curse. 


I haste to say some critics are my friends, 

A goodly roll of talent supports me 

A goodly roll of critics back my ends 

A goodly roll my aim's pure ends do see. 

But BushTvhacker-Banditti of the Pen 

Blackguard Swashbucklers and Draw-Can-Sirs fell 

Who lick the boots of low-born rich-quick-men 

Anent my Muse the d — dest lies do tell! 

These paltry, petty, furtive human-lice 

These gray-back-body-lice that run so fast 

Unless one is upon them in a trice 

The day of reck'ning 's gone I Its hour full past ! 

Against these vermin do I detonate 

And jet pure vitriol both soon and late. 

J. A. C, Richmond, Virginia, Jefferson's BirtMay, 1915. 

Iv' Envoi 


We point unto our record quietly. 

The Tribune and the 'World admit by we 

The Kaiser and his crew entirely 

In purest vitriol deep soused be. 

And other leading papers say the same 

Anent our modest book Pieces of Eight — 

Xorth. South and West do frank admit naught's tame 

That therein pictures for said crew our hate. 

All frank admit that we possess the "punch" — 

The "punch" that lands the "knock-out" coveted — 

The "punch'' which swift all consciousness doth crunch 

Pulverize and put out i' th' buffeted. 

T'all said distinguished judges of our "swat" 

We bow our compliments and doff our hat. 

J. A. C, Richmond, Virginia, May 19, 1915. 



High Life in New York showing how the Vendetta is 

operated on Fifth Avenue) 82-136 


Author of "Who's Looney Now?" Gets Spirit Message from 

Hades, etc 169 

Art Students, to Aid 197 

Art Students' Fund, an 194 

Brinsley, Henry, in "Vanity Fair" 175 

"Beaux Arts," To Form a 199 

Booth, Edwin, Letter of 199 


Chaloner, John Armstrong Speaks 127 

Chaloner, Via Mr 174 

Chaloner to Choate, Letter of 187 

Chaloner's Income Large 229 

Chaloner Files Appeal 230 

Chaloner on War Path 133 

Chaloner on War Path 134 

Chanler-Family Letters, The 110 

Correspondence Elicited by First Edition of "Hard Cash".. 137 
Choate, Jr., Joseph H. and T. Tittlebat Sherman, In re. . . . 201 
Copy of Letter Addressed to Members of Press, Washing- 
ton, D. C 165 

Chronicle, San Francisco, — "A New Version of Hell" 173 

Tribune, New York, — ^Editorial 197 

David-Up-to-Date 235 

Frontispiece Opposite Title Page 

Frontispiece, Note to 185 

Four Years Behind the Bars of Bloomingdale 103 

Four Years in Bloomingdale 117 

Hell 173 

Hell, The Call of 164 

Hell, Message from 173 

Hell, New Version of 173 

History of English Prosody, A 61 


Hazard Of The Die, Prologue to 2 

Hazard Of The Die, Epilogue to. . 59 

Hudson, Thomson Jay, Statement of 159 

Herald, New York, — ^"For Benefit American Art" 193 


Herald, Washington, — "Author of "Who's Looney Now Gets 

Spirit Message"' 169 


Jastrow, Prof. Joseph, Opinion of 152 

James, Prof. William, Statement of 157 

Journal, Richmond Evening, — "Hell" 173 

News-Leader, Richmond, — Note to Frontispiece 1S5 

News and Observer, Raleigh, — "Four Years in Blooming- 
dale" 117 

Prologue i-vi 


Press Statement 108 


Preface to "Hard Cash" 137 

Passing Show, Tlie 174 


Scholarship, Benefit American Art 193 

Scorpio 177 

Saltus, Edgar, in "Vanity Fair" 17 5 

Stop Thief, Give Me My Million 122 

State, New Orleans. — "The Passing Show" 174 


Robbery Under Law, Inset to vi 

Robbery Under Law, Epilogue to 9S 

Roanoke News, Weldon N. C. — "Chaloner on War Path".. . 133 

Summons and Complaint, In re Paris Prize 207 

Shakespeare and Blank Verse 61 

Shakespeare's Predecessors in English Drama 69 

'THE PL^IY'S THE THING' 179-184 


Telegraph, New York, — Satan Is A Gentleman"' 175 

Times-Dispatch, Richmond, — "John Armstrong Chaloner 

Speaks" 127 

Tribune, Chicago, — "Via Air. Chaloner" 17 4 

Virginian, Richmond, — -'The Call of Hell" 164 

World, New York, — "Stop Thief, Give Me My Million".... 122 

Wood, Dr. Horatio Curtis, Statement of 148 

What The Law Reviews Have to Say About "The Lunacy 

Law^ of the V.'orld" 231 



Inset To "Robbery Under Law." 


Epilogue To "Robbery Under Law." 

Prologue To The Hazard Of The Die. 
Epilogue To The Hazard Of The Die. 

"Shakespeare and Blank Verse." 

"Shakspere's Predecessors In The English Drama." 


"Four Years Behind The Bars of Bloomingdale." 

Press Statement. 

The Chanler-Family Letters. 

"Four Years In Bloomingdale" — The Neivs and Observer, Raleigh, 

North Carolina, October 18, 1906. 
Stop Thief! Give Me My Million! — The World, New York, November 

11, 1906. 
John Armstrong Chaloner Speaks. — The Times-Dispatch, Richmond, 

Virginia, October 17, 1906. 
€haloner On The War Path.- — The Roanoke Neius, Weldon, North 

Carolina, October 18, 1906. 
Chaloner On The War Path. — Neivs-Leader, Richmond, Virginia, Octo- 
ber 15, 1906. 

Statement By Dr. Horatio Curtis Wood. 
Opinion By Professor Joseph Jastrow. 
Statement Of Professor William James. 
Statement Of Thomson Jay Hudson. 

The Call Of Hell. — Richmond Yirginian, August 12, 1912, 
Copy of Letter Addressed To A Score Or So Of The Members Of 

The Press Of Washington, D. C. 
Author Of "Who's Looney Now?" Gets Spirit Message From Hades 

From Friend Who Says He Is There. — Washington Herald, August 

5, 1912. 
Hell. — Richmond News-Leader, October 28. 1912. 
A Message From Hell. — Richmond Times-Dispatch, October 30, 1912, 
A New Vision Of Hell. — San Francisco Chronicle, August 6. 1912. 
Via Mr. Chaloner. — Chicago (111.) Trihune, August 6, 1912. 
The Passing Show. — New Orleans (La.) States, August 8, 1912. 
In re Hell. — New York Tribune, August 6, 1912. 
In re Hell. — New York Telegraph August 6, 1912. 
Edgar Saltus In "Vanity Fair," New York, January, 1914. 
Henry Brinsley in "\^anity Fair," New York, January, 1914. 
Scorpio (Sonnets) — The Academy, London, August 8, 1908. 
Note To Frontispiece — The Neivs-Leader, Richmond, Virginia, October 

5. 1911. 
Letter of Chaloner to Choate. 
"For the Benefit Of American Art." — New York Herald, January 26, 

An Art 'Students Fund. — New York World, January 26, 1891. 
To Aid Art Students.— New York Tribune, January 26, 1891. 
Editorial — New York Tribune, January 29, 1891. 
To Form A "Beaux Arts" — New York World, January 29, 1891. 
Letter From Edwin Booth To John Armstrong Chaloner. 
In re Joseph H. Choate, Jr., and T. Tittlebat Sherman. 
Summons and Complaint — In re Paris Prize. 
Chaloner Income Large — Richmond Times-Dispatch, Richmond, Va., 

February 1, 1915. 
Isis Unveiled. 

Chaloner Files Appeal. — Richmond Times-Dispatch, May 1, 1915. 
What the Law Reviews Have to Say about "The Lunacy Law of 

the World." ' 
DAVID-UP-TO-DATE— A Sequence of Six Dramatic SoimeU. 













Third line top. Erase '"on"'. 

First line second paragraph. Erase "Lawless". 

"Inamorata" should he spelled properly. 

"Practising"" should he spelled properly. 

Seventeenth line foot. Erase quotations from "Friend" and 

move them to "Elsinore"" making three quotations on 

right of ""Elsinore"' 
Page 23. Erase all other quotations in said paragraph — all quotations 

following above erasure. 
Page 2S. Third line top last paragraph. Erase "The" 
Page 33. Third line top. Close single quotations. 
Page 35. "Eyes" should he "Eye". 
Page 36. Grave accent on "'Viohi". 
Page 3S. Seventh line top. Erase "Stutfleld". 
Page 44. Sixteenth line top. Comma after "agents" 
Page 45. Seventeenth line foot. "Division Three" should be spelled 

with capitals. 
Page 45. Sixteenth and Seventeenth lines foot. ""Division two" should 

be in italics: and "Two" should be spelled with a capital. 
Page 50. "Practising" should be spelled properly. 
Page 51. Ninth line top. Erase quotations before "Labour". 
Page 51. "Aristotelian"" should be spelled properly. 
Page 53. Twenty-first line foot close single quotations at end of 

Page 54. Second line top. Apostrophe over "Fight's"". 
Page 5 9. Eighth line top. "A curtain goes up" should be "As 

curtain goes up." 
Page 61. Sixth line top. Period should be a dash. 
Page 65. Sixth line foot. Erase "Stutfield"". 
Page 68. "Mandragora"" should be spelled properly. 
Page 69. "Though" should be "Through"' 

Page 70. Thirteenth line foot. "'Popularly"" should be "Pompously". 
Page 74. Mid-page. "After this cruel war is over" — should be in 

quotation marks. 
Page 78. Twelfth line foot. Close double quotations at "Hold". 
Page 5. '"Stout"' should be spelled properly. 
Page S. Last line out of alignment. 
Page 10. Eighteenth line foot close quotation. This is the translation 

of a poem actually written by Catullus in honour of 

Cicero, on the occasion of Cicero's winning a lawsuit for 

Page 14. "Babbler" should be spelled properly. 
Page 14. Fifth line foot. Erase last "E" in "Speak'st" and put the 

apostrophe over the omitted letter. 
Page IS. "Recently"" should be spelled properly. 
Page IS. ""Five"" should be "Seven". 
Page 19. "Catiline"' should be spelled properly. 
Page 23. Sixth line top insert "Call" after "Will"'. 
Page 34. Insert "Exit Fulvia,*' next to last line. 
Page 35. ""^^aiting" should be "Awaiting"". 
Page 38. Sixth line foot. Apostrophe after "Cow-keeper*s"'. 
Page 39. Third line foot. "Actions"" should be "Action"". 
Page 44. Last line. "This"' should not be italicized. 
Page 46. "Travelling"' should be spelled properly. 
Page 46. Sixteenth line top. Exclamation point should end line. 
Page 47. Tenth line foot. "Claudius"" should be "Clodius"'. 
Page 5S. Third line foot. "Iamb" should be spelled properly. 
Page 68. Second line foot. "Tribrach"" should be spelled properly. 
Page 69. "Modelled" should be spelled properly. 
Page 70. "Multitudes" should be "Multitude". 
Page 74. Tenth line top. "Xot" should be "No"". 
Page 75. Tenth line top. "Desires" should be "Desire". 
Page 77. Third line top. No punctuation after "Heavenly" 

Page 77. Sixth line top. Apostrophe after "O" should be an exclama- 
tion mark. 
Page 77. Twelfth line top. "Exceeds" should be "Succeeds". 
Page 78. Twentieth line top. "Least" should be "Last". 
Page 78. Eleventh line foot. "Moment" should be "Moments". 
Page 80. "Imperturbable" should be spelled properly. 
Page 80. Third line foot. "Desired" should be "Designed". 
Page 82. Footnote: "Since deceased" applies also to United States 

Senator John W. Daniel of Virginia. 
Page 83. Fourth line foot. "United Industrial Company" should be 

"Roanoke Rapids Power Company". 
Page 85. Third paragraph "Troubetzkoy" should be spelled properly 

in both instances. 
Page 85. Next line below. No dagger on New York World nor on 

first footnote below. While the two daggers on the second 

footnote should be a single dagger. 
Page 86. Fifth line top second paragraph. No "Of" after "Outside 

my door". 
Page 87. Second line top third paragraph. Comma after "Asylum 

Page 87. Third line top Footnote. "Conflict's" not "Conflict". 
Page 87. Next line below\ Xot "Polite" but "Police"— a very different 

word, indeed. 
Page 88. L>ast line third paragraph. Insert "Either" between "Is" 

and "Badly cooked". 
Page 88. Seventh paragraph second line top. "Unknown" should be 

Page 8y. First line Second paragraph. '-Practised" should be spelled 

Page 89. Same correction middle Third paragraph. 
Page 91. Third line. Third paragraph. Insert "From this" after 

Page 94. Fourth line First paragraph. "Matter" should be "Matters". 
Page 99. "Wholesome," not. "Unw^holesome". 
Page 99. Conflicting should be spelled properly. 
Page 99. "Steals," not, "Steal". 

Page 100. "¥/rite nor telegraph" should be "Write or telegraph". 
Page 100. "Nor mention me" should be "Or mention". 

Page 108. Micajah Y/cods should be spelled properly. 
Page 109. "Howard University" should be "Harvard University". 
Page 110. "Fiat accompli" should be ''Fait accompli'\ 
Page 111. "Dodging question" should be "Dodging questions". 
Page 112. "Sublime and famous predilection for mystery" should be 

"Sublime and fatuous predilection for mystery". 
Page 114. Insert between end of sixth line foot and beginning of fifth 

line foot the following: "Recall the exact point at issue 

between you: but I do". 

Page 118. "That he as acquired" should be "That he has acquired". 
Page 118. "The consequences was" should be "The consequence was". 
Page 120. "Its purposes he alleges is" should be "Its purpose he al- 
leges is". 

Page 63. "Necessitates" should be spelled properly. ^ 

Page 70. "Whispering" should be spelled properly. 
Page 73. "Oratorical" should be spelled properly". 
Page 73. Line two from bottom: "Of" instead of "Or". 
Page 80. "Imperturbable" should be snelled properly. 
Page 85. Line 7 from top: Supply "My" before "Eyes". 
Page 85. "Appearance" should be spelled properly. 
Page 87. "Venomously" should be spelled properly. 
Page 93. Line 26 from top: Supply "Do" after "To". 
Page 97. "Altercation" not alteration. 
Page 99. "Conflicting" should be spelled properly. 
Page 100. Line 10 from bottom: "How" instead of "Had". 

Page 1?2. 'SiLciiId' si:-.: :i spelled rroperly. 

*FOrR YEAPvS BEKIXD THE BARS. &c. " (Beginning at p. 123). 

Page 122. "L/iteriy " should be s-iielied properlv. 

''STOP thief: give >h: my mieliox:' 

Page 122. "Psycliics" should be speiltd properly. 
Page 123. '■Haconteur" should be spelled i:,roDeriy. 

Page 12 S. "Rapids"' not Rapid. 
Page 129. Dec tor" should be spelled properlr. 

Page 141. '\MatiheW should be spelled properly. 
Page 146. ''Mans"" should be spelled properly. 
Page 147. "Juiiiping ■ should he spelled properlv. 
Page 154. Line 1.5 from top: "Than ' not 'That". 
Page 159. Line 3 from top: 'So " not "Or ". 
Page 159. Line 5 from top: "Alternation" not "alteration". 
Page 159. Line S from top: "Alternation' not "Alteration". 
Page 159. Line 21 from top: /'Him"' not "His". 
Page 162. "Develops" should be spelled properly. 
Page 162. •"Dominant" should be spelled properly. 
Page 163. Line 3 from bottom: "Thomson" not "Thomas". 
Page 164. "Remartarle" should he swelled Droperly. 
Fare 1-' -ir.^ ? ::cm hoitom: "They" not ""He". 
Pair 1 111- i; :rom bottom: Omit second "'County". 
Pair it;. Liu- _; irom bottom: "Cherub" not "Cherubim". 
Page 170. Line 18 from bottom: "Seraph" not "Seraphim". 
Page 172. Line 5 from bottom: "Cherub" not "Cherubim". 
Page 172. Line 4 from bottom: ''Seraph*' not '"Seraphim"'. 

Page 173. "Leader" should be spelled properly. 
Page 173. "Declares", should be spelled properly. 
Page 174. Line 18 from top: "Of not "A". 
Page 175. "Kindly" should be spelled properly. 

Page 177. "Seven-thonged" should be spelled properly. 
Page 175. Line 5 from bottom: Omit "Of* before "Ordinary". 
Page 1S2. "'Theatre Francais'^ should be "Theutre Francais". 
Page 1S2. Same correction ten lines below. 
Page 1S3. "IVay back in 1912"' should be 'Way back in 1912. 
Page 1S6. "Cause celehre" should be in both instances '"Cau.fe cel^hre'\ 
Page IS 6. "Napoleon" should be spelled properly. 
Page 1S9. "On-to" shou'd he "'Onto". 
Page 189. Insert after "Seventy-five thousand dollars" — 13th line root 

— the words "Were raised"". 
Page 191. Quotation marks at "Incorporated" — First paragraph, should 

be at end of words, "I'll do the same ". 
Page 191. "Hungry Hank" — Second paragraph — should be in quotation 

Page 191. "Terms"' — the same line — should be "Term". 
Page 203. 'From the pockets of Choate and Sherman" should be "To 

the pockets of Choate and Sherman" — a very different 

proposition. "Never in" — Second paragraph — should be 

"Never, in". 
Page 2m4. Resolution" — Third paragraph — should be "Revolution". 
Page 204. "Relieves " — same line — should be "Receives". 
Page 2 6. "Judge'" — should be-=-"Jury". 
Page 223. 'Accomplished by grave danger" — Fourth paragraph — should 

be "Accompanied by grave danger". 
Page 224. "Res Adjudicaf — should be -Res Adjudicata". 
Page 227. "An Inferior Court named the United States District Court" 

— should be "An Inferior Court namely the United States 

District Court '. 
Page 228. In the line 'Time cannot wither, nor custom shake, their 

infinite rascality." "Rascality" should be spelled properly. 
Page 229. "Tanis The Sand Digger" — should be "Tanis The Sang 

INDEX — 'A New Version of Hell" should be "A, New Vision or 


New York Herald, June 29, 1915. 


Lunacy Law liet'onii To Be Urged on Stage by 
John Armstrong Chaloner. 

John Armstrong Chaloner, in a fifty cent paper covered volume, 
full of personal declarations, put before the public yesterday his 
new play, "Robbery Under Law," so thickly strewn with typo- 
graphical and other errors that three pages of small type are given 
to corrections of "errata." "In order to serve as a sort of propaganda 
toward the cause of lunacy law reform, to which the writer has 
sacrificed the last eighteen year sof his life, come ^larch 13, 1915," 
is Mr. Chaloner's declaration in italics for the purpose of this pub- 

:More interesting than the publication is the announcement it 
carries that ]\lr. Chaloner proposes to present "Robbery Under Law'' 
as a dramatic performance in theatres all over the country, making 
an address alter the fall of the curtain at each performance, which 
he solemnly agrees to limit to ten minutes. He will talk for two 
hours every Sunday, however. 

The frontispiece for the book is a picture of a portrait bust of 
the author dressed in the uniform of Napoleon 1, with the caption, 
"Chaloner 1st; 1911, by Chiswell." 

Defending "Robbery Under Law" Mr. Chaloner writes that 
parts of it could be cut "without the least injury to the action, 
though not to the psychological value of it as a study in the very 
latest and furthest advanced realms of a mediumship. Since that is 
what I am — a medium — in the language of the late Professor Wil- 
liam James, of Harvard." 

Mr. Chaloner's only successful composition heretofore was the 
phrase, "Who's Looney Now-?" written in a telegram to his brother, 
"Sheriff Bob" Chanler, when the latter's romantic and marital ex- 
periences with Mile. Lina Cavalieri became known. 

New York Sun, June 29, 1915. 


It's a Volume, an Epic, a Work of Art ($.50 Per) — John A. Is the 
Hero and Everything Else, Except Bosco and Viola. 

Every once in a while John Armstrong Chaloner, author of 
that merry little quip "Who's Looney Now?" retires into his inner 
consciousness and after long lucubration brings forth another book 
about John Armstrong Chaloner. Since his escape from "Bloom- 
ingdale" asylum in 19 00 to his home in Virginia, where he is legally 
sane, Chaloner has been attacking the lunacy laws, and his latest 
vehicle of expression, hot off the press, is called "Robbery Under 
the Law; or. The Battle of the Millionaires." ^ 

Although Chaloner modestly takes unto himself the robes of 
Shakespeare and Marlowe he was known, until the publication of 
this latest collection of blank and other Terse, melodrama and press 
notices, as the brother of Sheriff Bob Chanler of New York, who on 
his separation from Lina Cavalieri received a telegram from brother 
John Armstrong asking "Who's Looney Now?" Mr. Chalcmer is 
proud of that line. He puts it on the title page and uses it as the 
climax of his relation of triumph over Pat Sligo, the asylum ke'eper. 

For of course Chaloner is the hero of his play in three acts 
and three scenes, with a prologue and epilogue. His adventures, 
"the stirring cycle of events which for the past eighteen years has 
been whirling around the head of 'Who's Looney Now' " centre 
about the manly form of Hugh Stutfield of Rokeby, Albemarle 
County, Virginia, "millionaire art patron and law writer." There 
are two other millionaires in the play who try to get Stutfield's 
money and so put him in the Pairdale asylum, and a man worth 
half a million. Mr. Chaloner says that it is a psychological play, 
he having been called a medium and of psychic temperament by the 
late' Prof. William James. 

See What Bosco Does! 

But the psychology is not so startling as the action, to which 
Bosco, the man servant of Stutfield, his "heavy Numidian cavalry — 
to use a bold metaphor," contributes strangle holds and half Nel- 
sons. It begins with a killing. Stutfield, in love with Viola, who 
is beautiful but cold, is visited by her. She brings a poor woman 
vvho is beaten every day by her husband with a poker because the 
poker won't bend, and Stutfield is about to get a divorce for her 
when the husband comes in and lays out the chivalric squire with 
his favorite weapon. E'nter Bosco. 

"With that Bosco crouches like a tiger and springs upon Bull- 
ard from behind, bringing Bullard down fiat on his back under 
him. By this time Stutfield has come to and rises to his feet. 

"Viola (in a low tone) — Are you hurt, my darling? 

"Stutfield (in the same low voice) — No, my dearest darling, not 
a bit. You precious child! It took the threat of death — of my 
death — to melt your frozen bosom. Do you love me?" 

"Viola — Yes, my hero, I do. 

"Stutfield (in italics) — Thank God, then, for those two blows! 
You saved the day, though, dearie. As I went off into my two 
sleeps your sweet bell-like voice was ringing in my ears — like a 
silver trumpet call, sounding the charges. And, by Gad, my black 
Bosco heard your bugle and made good. Look at the black rascal 
holding that murderous villain down. I hereby crown you queen 
of love and beauty of the tournament — this modern Asliby-de-la 
Zouche of Ivanhoe. 

"Viola — The Queen of Love and Beauty accepts the glorious 
crown placed upon her unworthy head by thy glorious hand, Sir 
Knight of Rokeby, whose headdress (a football cap of Rugby days) 
suggests the Oriental ponip of the dauntless but ruthless Sir Brian 
de Bois Guilbert, and whose character that of the stainless Wilfred 
of Ivanhoe." 

After that Chaloner, or Stutfield, simply cannot resist having 
another go with the bloodthirsty Bullard, and with the assistance 
of the heavy Numidian cavalry the villain is shot. 

Don't Be Alarmed. He Isn't Hurt. 

"Viola — My God. Hugh are you hurt, darling? 

"Stutfield — ^No, darling. 

"(Bosco lets Bullard softly down on his back.) 

"Bosco — He dade. 

"Stutfield — (Gravely.) Yes, Bosco. He dade." 

After two more acts, which show how Stutfield is incarcerated 
in Fairdale asylum by persons who wish to get his money and how 
he escapes by overpowering the keeper, Pat Sligo, and binding him 
with ingenious devices, he leans over Pat and says: 

"Ta, ta, Pat, I'll meet you in a better world where the lunacy 
laws presumably are more legal and equitable than in New York at 
present. So long, Pat. Be good to yourself. (With great delib- 
eration and pausing between each word) Who's Looney Now?" 

With which stinging remark he goes out of the play and leaves 
Pat flat. 

But to m.ake the book really worth fifty cents Chaloner throws 
in a lot of other things, including "The Hazard of the Die," of 
which he thinks so well that he prefaces it by the following pro- 

His Marlovian iLiine. 

"The grand Marlovian line is surely mine — 
'Tis Marlowe's heir; we are more than Shakespeare's. 
But Shakespeare's psychology is mine — my mine! 
For the rest we're Marlowe, plus our riper years. 
Thus th' English drama's incarnate in me; 
Of its two prophets we the mantle wear. 
Shakepeare's knowledge of man therein you see, 
Whilst Marlowe's thunder fills the ambient air. 

With Marlowe's passion doth fill up our cup; 

Of his heroic mould our lieroes be, 

While passion's cup our heroines fill up — 

The truth of this the d — dest fool may see. 

'Deep calleth unto deep' within our plays, 

And llarlowe's lightning on Shakespeare's moonlight plays." 

After which one simply can't help reading the play, only to 
meet at the end the lines: 

"Fair reader, this grim play scarce but begins 

A chain of plays that equals Shakespeare's length. 

In saying this think not the chorus sins — 

We know our productivity and strength." 

And lest there be any misunderstanding as to the worth of 
Shakespeare in making comparisons, ^Ir. Chaloner reproduces a part 
of an essay by George Saintsbury to show that the bard was once 
considered a regular writer. 

New York Call, June 29, 1915. 


John Armstrong Chaloner Is Author of the Great Drama in 
Three Acts, Three Scenes, Etc. 

Every once in a while John Armstrong Chaloner, author of 
that merry little quip, "Who's Looney Now?" retires into his inner 
consciousness and after long lucubration brings forth another book 
about John Armstrong Chaloner. Since his escape from "Bloom- 
ingdale" Asylum in 1900 to his home in Virginia, where he is 
legally sane, Chaloner has been exposing the lunacy laws, and his 
latest vehicle of expression, which comes hot off the press, is called 
"Robbery Under the Law, or the Battle of the Millionaires." 

Although Chaloner modestly takes unto himself the robes of 
Shakespeare and Marlowe, he was known, until the publication of 
this latest collection of blank and other verse, melodrama and press 
notices, as the brother of Sheriff Bob Chanler,. of New York, who 
on his separation from Lina Cavalieri, received a telegram from 
brother John asking "Who's Looney Now?" Mr. Chaloner is proud 
of that line; he puts it on the title page and uses it as a climax of 
his triumph over Pat Sligo, the asylum keeper. 

Chaloner Is Hero of His Play. 

But, of course, Chaloner is the hero of his play in three acts 
and three scenes, with a prologue and epilogue. His adventures, 
"The stirring cycle of events which for the past eighteen years have 
been whirling around the head of 'Who's Looney Now ' " center 
about the manly form of Hugh Stutneld, of Rokeby, Albemarle 
County, Va., "millionaire art patron and law writer." There are 
two other millionaires in the play who try to get Stutfield's nfbney, 
and so put him in the Fairdale asjdum, and a man worth half a 
million. i:Mr. Chaloner says that it is a psychological play, he 
having been called a medium and of psychic temperament by the 
late Prof. William James. 

But the psychology is not so startling as the action, to which 
Bosco, the man servant of Stutfield, his "heavy Numidian cavalry, 
to use a bold metaphor," contributing strangle holds and half Nel- 
sons. It begins with a killing. Stutfield, in love with Viola, who is 
beautiful but cold, is visited by her. She brings a poor woman 
who is beaten every day by her husband with a poker, because the 
poker won't bend, and Stutfield is about to get a divorce for her, 
when the husband comes in and lays out the chivalric squire with a 
poker. Enter Bosco. 

Bosco's Xoble De^. 

With that Bosco crouches like a tiger and springs upon Bullard 
from behind, bringing Bullard down flat on his back under him. 
By this time Stutfield has come to, and rises to his feet. 

Viola (in a low tone) — Are you hurt, my darling? 

Stutfield (in the same low voice") — No, my dearest darling, not 
a bit. Your precious child! It took the threat of death — of my 
death to melt your frozen bosom. Do you love me? 

Viola — Yes, my hero, I do. 

Stutfield — Thank God, then, for those two blows! You saved 
the day, though, dearie. As I went off into my two sleeps your 
sweet bell-like voice was ringing in my ears — like a silver trumpet 
call, sounding the cliarge. And, by Gad, my black Bosco heard your 
bugle and "made good." Look at the black rascal holding that 
murderous villain down. I hereby crown you Queen of Love and 
Beauty of the tournament — this modern Ashby de la Zouche of 

Viola — The Queen of Love and Beauty accepts the glorious 
crown placed upon her unworthy head by thy glorious hand, Sir 
Knight of Rokeby. Whose headdress (a football cap of Rugby 
days) suggests the Oriental pomp of the dauntless, but ruthless, Sir 
Brian de Bois Gilbert, and whose character that of the stainless 
Wilfred of Ivanhoe. 


Xew York Mail June 28, 1915. 


Author of Phrase "Who's Looney Xow?" Will Also liectiu'e to 
Prove Laws Are Wror.g. 

John Armstrong Chaloner, made famous by the query, "'Who's 
Looney X'ow?" has started a crusade to prove the sanity laws of 
the majority of the States are all wrong. 

In a book which appeared on the stands to-day he is putting 
forth admittedly founded on his own experience, his commitment 
to "Bloomingdale," his escape and his finding of a refuge in Vir- 
ginia, whose courts declared him sane. 

Chaloner sets forth in a prologue he has "sacrificed the last 
eighteen years of his life" in the cause of lunacy reform. His play 
is entitled: "Robbery Under the Law, or The Battle of the Million- 

Another play, "The Hazard of the Die," is also included in the 
volume, which contains numerous clippings from newspapers deal- 
ing with his own case. 

His purpose, he says, is "to put before the public the deadly 
disease eating the fiber of our body politic in vicious lunacy legis- 
lation obtaining in 40 per cent, of the States of the United States as 
'damaged goods' put before the public the deadly disease, eating the 
flesh of alas! but too many of the peoples of the earth." 

Xew York TeJegram, June 2S, 1915. 


John Armstrong Chaloner Before the Footlights With 
Scathing Attack on the Law. 


John Armstrong Chaloner, author of "^\Tio's Looney Xow?" 
has a brand new crusade. 

He has set out "to put before the public the deadly disease eat- 
ing the fibre of our body politic in vicious lunacy legislation ob- 
taining in forty per cent, of the States of the United States, as 
'Damaged Goods' put before the public the deadly disease, eating 
the flesh of alas! but too many of the peoples of the earth." 

To that end he has written a new play entitled "Robbery 
Under Law; or, The Battle of the :\Iillionaires," and is offering it 
to the public in book form. It made its appearance on the book 
stands here to-day fresh from the press. 

The work, which embraces besides the play, numerous news- 
paper clippings, dealing with the now famous case, another play 
called "The Hazard of the Die," and some new essays into the 
field of poetry, covers 24 4 pages, set off with a frontispiece portrait 
of the author made up as Napoleon. 

He Means Business, All Right. 

I\Iost of the clippings refer to Chaloner's incarceration in the 
"Bloomingdale" Asylum in this State and the actions of the New 
York and Virginia courts which respectively held him insane and 
sane. In the prologue Chaloner declares that he has "sacrificed the 
last eighteen years of my life" to the propaganda toward the cause 
of lunacy reform. His schemes for furthering the propaganda 
are announced in the following paragraphs culled from the book: — 

" 'Who's Looney Now^?' proposes to address the audiences after 
the fall of the curtain in 'Robbery Under Law' for ten minutes 
precisely; and put before them — in each city he plays in — all 
through the United States, the black and foul stigma now staining 
the fair name of law, justice and liberty in these United States in 
the name of the Lunacy Law. Furthermore, each Sunday after- 
noon "Who's Looney Now?' will hire the largest hall each city con- 
tains and for two hours hold forth on the interesting topic of crim- 
inal lunacy legislation now masquerading under the name of law 
in forty per cent, of the States of the Union. * * * 'Who's Looney 
Now?' opines he will draw a large crowd.' 

Founded on Own Lps and Dowtis. 

The play,, w-hich is admittedly founded on Chaloner's ups and 
downs since he was committed to the asylum, is summarized as 
follow^s: — 

Hugh Stutfield, of Virginia and New York, wealthy art pa- 
tron and writer on law, has an enemy in James Lawless, also 
wealthy, who conspires with his relatives to get him out of the 
way. Hugh and Lawless are rivals for the hand of Viola Cariston, 
and fearing that he has little chance of winning her from the Vir- 
ginian, Lawless determines to resort to any means rather than lose 
her. Constantia and W^inston Blettermole, cousins of Hugh's, are 
bitterly jealous of him, and as they are the next heirs to his 
millions, if he does not marry, they listen readily to the criminal 
suggestions of Lawless and his .lawyer, Spink. 

Although Hugh has a certain clairvoyant sense which warns 
him of trouble, they manage to have him shut up in an asylum, as 
a dangerous lunatic. From this place he eventually makes his es- 
cape, and by wit and courage gets the better of his persecutors. 

Mr. Chaloner declares in his introduction that the first act of 
the play, in which the shooting and death of one of the characters 
occur, is taken "bodily — character and action — from life." Act II. 
which is described as a "thinly disguised statement of cold, hard 
facts, bar only the love motive, which is entirely imaginary." He 
adds: — "The onlj'- main differences being that the fight with the 
"Bloomingdale" keeper took place in my ceil at "Bloomingdale," 
instead of in the wood at "Bloomingdale"; and, also, that I es- 
caped from "Bloomingdale" by fight, unaided by support from out- 
side that institution — outside the insane asylum — as in the play." 

In his fight to prove his sanity before the Virginia court which 
ultimately decided he was sane, Chaloner deposed that he had dis- 
covered a new application of animal magnetism and that his facial 
lineaments had changed in recent years so as to resemble portraits 
of Napoleon Bonaparte. 

Chaloner's last court fight here took place last year when he 
made an unsuccessful effort in the Federal Circuit Court of Appeals 
to recover possession of his $1,500,000 estate from William T. Sher- 
man, who was appointed committee of his person when he was com- 
mitted to the asylum. 

New York Telegram, June 29, 1915. 

John Armstrong Chaloner now blooms as the Napoleon of a 
new reform. A St. Helena for a lot of reformers is something very 
much needed. 

Xe^v York American, June 29, 1915. 


John Armstrong Chaloner, whose long fight to prove his sanity 
made him famous, has issued a book made up in part of a three- 
act play, "Robbery Under the Law; or. The Battle of the Million- 
aires." He includes a chapter, "Isis Unveiled," explaining why, he 
says, Amelie Rives, now the Princess Troubetzkoy, is still paid 
?3,600 from his income. 

"The allowance of $3,600 to Princess Troubetzkoy is not ali- 
mony, but a continuation, after her remarriage, of an allowance 
made said Princess before her divorce was even mentioned. It is 
merely the friendly interest of an art patron in the future career of 
a vfriter and artist, with whom the said art patron had quarrelled, 
largely because she refused to cultivate her great talent as a por- 
trait painter." 

New York Worm, July 4, 1915. 


"Robbery Under the Law," He Says, Is an Epitome of His Fight 
Against Lunacy Proceedings. 


One Scene Reprodiices a Tragedy in WTiich Chaloner 
Was One of the Actors. 

John Armstrong Chaloner has v\-ritten a play entitled "Rob- 
bery Under Law" to illustrate, as he says, the mischief of lunacy 
proceedings in New York State. When he finished the play last 
fall he sent it through friends to a reader for a city theatrical man- 
ager. It was rejected by the reader, who criticized it as "far- 
fetched and sensational in plot, the behaviour of the characters be- 
ing highly unconvincing under all circumstances." Mr. Chaloner 
says the rejection is a prime literary asset to him, as practically" all 
the characters in the play and all the scenes are from life, relating 
his own experiences under the lunacy lavv. So he has published the 
play in book form, together with other of his writings. 

The Virginia Tragedy. 

In the dramatization ^Iv. Chaloner poses as chief character, 
with the name of Hugh Stutfield of Rokeby, Albemarle County, Va., 
and New York, millionaire art patron and art writer. James Law- 
less of New York, rejectei suitor of Viola Cariston, who loves Stut- 
field; Winston Elettermole, cousin and heir-at-law of Stutfield; Beli- 
sarius P. Spink, a learned and unscrupulous Nev^- York lawyer, and 
Albert Wedge, an inventor, are the other important characters in 
the play. 

Viola and the love romance woven about her are dramatic in- 
ventions;; but, :Mr. Chaloner says, the other characters correctly 
portray relatives and others who had him placed in "Blooming- 
dale" Asylum, from which he escaped after he had been kept there 
nearly four years, and that many of the utterances in the play were 
made by actual persons in the proceedings against him. 

The play opens at Rokeby, Stutfield's Virginia Place, where 
Stutfield is visitod by Viola, accompanied by Mrs. Bullard and her 
little daughter, wife and child of an English machinist. Bullard 
had beaten his wife until she had resolved to obtain a divorce from 
him and Viola had taken her to Rokeby to consult Stutfield as a 

While they are talking, Bullavd enters. He attacks his wife 
with a pair of tongs. Stutfield springs to her relief and, after a 
prolonged encounter, a pistol for which Stiitfield and Bullard have 
been struggling is discharged, killing Bullard. This act is said to 
reproduce substantially an occurrence in which John Gillard, an 
English wife-beater, was killed by a pistol in the hands of Gillard 
and Chaloner, while Chaloner was, in good faith, according to ac- 
tual verdict of a coroner's jury, trying to prevent Gillard from 
shooting Mrs. Gillard. 

The Lunacy Plot. 

Act II. brings together Lawless, Blettermoie and wife and Law- 
yer Spink in the Cariston home, where Spink unfolds a plan by 
which Stutfield may be declared insane and committed to an asylum 
and his fortune of $5,000,000 divided among his relatives. It is ar- 
ranged that Blettermoie, as nearest blood relative, and Lawless, as 
"best friend," shall apply to the court to commit Stutfield to' an 
asylum as a dangerous lunatic, a maniac with suicidal and homicidal 
tendencies. Stutfield's psychological studies and manifestations in 
subconscious or trance utterances were to be points against him, 
and the killing of Bullard a supporting incident. 

With the departure of the conspirators from Cariston's, Stut- 
field arrives there. He talks with Viola of having awakened that 
morning with a subconscious depression of spirits, which warned 
him of trouble for himself within the next tv/enty-four hours. Lest 
it may affect him financially, he has brought with him in his saddle- 
bags §2,250,000, the proceeds of an investment in a needle-thread- 
ing invention of Wedge's five years previously. This money he 
wishes Viola to put away for Iiim in her safe. As no one will know 
of the deposit except the two lovers, Stutfield wants it in the safe 
in order that no court may reach it. Stutfield has a low opinion 
of the Bench, which he explains at length. Viola puts the money 
in the safe. Chaloner says this act is the thinly disguised state- 
ment of cold, hard facts, barring the imaginary love motive. 
In a Xew York KoteL 

Act II. opens with Stutfield in the Hotel Kensington, New York, 
where he is visited by two doctors, who profess interest in his 
powers as a medium. He goes into a supposed trance for their 
benefit, in which he denounces both of them as rogues and hire- 
lings. The doctors summon three manhandlers to seize Stutfield 
as a lunatic. Stutfield drives out the entire party at the point of 
a pistol and says he will discuss the matter the next afternoon. 
This scene, Chaloner saj's, is almost verbatim and actuallv from 

The next scene, (ieclared to be practically from life, is three 
months later, in Stutfield's cell, "Fairdale" asylum. He is writing 
a letter to Viola, which he intends to intrust for delivery to the 
inventor Wedge, whose allowance from Stutfield on account of the 
needle-threading invention is running low and in danger of stop- 
ping, and who has been admitted frequently to the asylum to call 
on Stutfield, because the asylum authorities look upon him as a 
safe visitor, being only an inventor, "vv-ithout much good sense." 

This letter lays out a plan of escape. Viola is to tell her 
father of their engagement and of the money in the safe. Capt. 
Cariston, the father, is to have access to that money to pay ?2,500 
to V\^edge; ?2, 500 each to three ex-Confederate veterans not too old 
to shoot straight, with promise of as much more the day they land 
Stutfield safely in Virginia; ?1,250 to the owner of any Norfolk 
ocean-going tug, that sum to be doubled when he lands Stutfield on 
the Virginia coast; $2,500 for a Connecticut farmer, a friend of 
Wedge, to transport any four men, behind a pair of speedy horses, 
from the "Fairdale" wall to the Sound, within thirty minutes. 
There the party will take the ocean-going tug and head for Virginia. 

The Escape. 

When all is ready Wedge is to call at the asylum, bringing with 
him a "quietus" in the form of a steel harness, which v\'ill handcuff, 


foot-bind, gag, blindfold and ear-muffle its wearer; also a chain 
and padlocks. This apparatus is intended for Pat Sligo, Stutfield's 
guard, with whom Stutfield intends to pick a quarrel in the asylum 
woods. He has figured out how he can choke Sligo into insensi- 
bility and then bind and lock him so that Sligo can give no alarm, 
see nothing, hear no approaching or departing footsteps and cannot 
be unharnessed except by long filing. 

This plan is carried out in the play and works perfectly. Chal- 
oner says it is "practically" the way he escaped from a real asylum, 
the main difference being that the fight with the keeper took place 
in the cell, not in the woods, and that the escape from the asylum 
grounds was made without help from outside. 

New York Times, June 25, 1915. 


Errors of His Expert Opinion in Contrast With the Judgment of 
Average Common Sense — A Remedy Pioposed. 

New York, June 23, 1915. 
To the Editor of the Neio York, Times: 

We cannot but regard with extreme disfavor and denounce with 
a feeling of the outraged decency of our profession the part too 
frequently acted by professional alienists when called upon to decide 
in law courts the legal competency of individuals. Upon the ex- 
pressed opinion of these insanity experts hang often the issues of 
life and death, vast property interests, or the freedom or incarce- 
ration of men and women. Need I mention that frequently, for 
some considerable length of time, the testimony given by promi- 
nent alienists in the courts of this city has been of such a 
character as to bring discredit not only upon themselves but upon 
the profession to which they belong? 

Another instance where a man of world-wide reputation as 
skilled in the treatment and diagnosis of insanity, displaying a 
facile weakness, sets also in a strong light the untrustworthiness of 
much of the testimony given by alienists. A number of years ago 
this noted New York physician was called upon to examine a young 
man v*^ho had killed another with an axe in a rural district up the 
State. It appears that the one who had committed the murderous 
assault was subject to epileptic fits, and the physician, after an ex- 
amination, gave as his expert opinion that the wielder of the axe 
was a psychic epileptic, and as such not responsible for his actions. 
Soon after giving this opinion the doctor was closeted for some 
length of time with the prosecuting attorney on the case, with the 
result that on the following morning he requested of the court the 
privilege of revising his testimony, which was granted. He then 
changed it so that it would appear as if the act were deliberate, the 
perpetrator hesitating, with the axe uplifted, before he struck the 
fatal blow. 

Recently an object lesson in a disputed insanity case was pre- 
sented to the public of New York City, when John Armstrong 
Chaloner took the initial steps toward having himself declared legal- 
ly sane in the State of New York. For some time past Mr. Chal- 
oner had held the disagreeably anomalous position of being legally 
insane in the State of New York, while declared legally sane in 
Virginia. This irregularity, the result of divergent opinions ex- 
pressed by alienists simply gives additional emphasis to a suspicion 
very generally entertained by the laity, that such expert opinions 
are worthy of no consideration whatever. In the instance just 
mentioned great money interests were involved which doubtless 
made it peculiarly interesting to others as well as insanity experts. 

iSo I might go on, almost interminably, citing case after case, 
equally flagrant, not limited to the city or State of New York, but 
co-extensive with the entire country. Surely there must be some 
remedy for a crying evil which has not only resulted in numerous 
acts of injustice being done, but has also brought contempt upon a 
noble profession. — Dr. Samuel W. Smith, formerly New York State 
Commissioner in Lunacy. 

New York TriTyune, Tuesday, June 29, 1915. 


'Robbery Under Law," First Big Dramatic Gun in 

"Battle of Millionaires," May Yet Invade New 

York if Author Has Good Luck. 

John Armstrong Chaloner, phrase maker extraordinary and 
author of "Who's Looney Now?" has written a play with which he 
intends to fight the lunacy laws of various States. It is called 
"Robbery Under Law; or, The Battle of Millionaires," and was 
ground out at ^Merry Mills, Chaloner's estate in Virginia. There 
the author is a sane man under the State law, while New York 
courts have adjudged him insane. 

To give full measure in the volume Mr. Chaloner has combined 
with "Robbery Under Law" another play, called "The Hazard of 
the Die," numerous newspaper clippings concerning his own vicis- 
situdes and some sonnets. The frontispiece is a portrait of Chal- 
oner in the dress of Napoleon — the same picture that he sent to 
newspapers in 1912, when his modesty first yielded to his resem- 
blance to the great little Corsican. 

The play "Robbery Under Law" is founded upon Chaloner's 
own adventures before and after his escape from "Bloomingdale." 
In the prologue, in which the author refers to .himself as "Who's 
Looney Now?" Chaloner declares his intention of producing the 
play in all parts of the country and accompanying its production 
with lectures on the iniquity of insanity laws. 

Just how Chaloner is going to manage about New York he 
doesn't say. He surely can't be planning to omit New York from 
his tour, for here, if anywhere, he has found iniquitous lunacy law, 
to say nothing of "ermined anarchy." Perhaps he is reckoning 
on the co-operation of the Supreme Court of the United States, 
where his appeal from an adverse judgment in his suit to recover 
the control of his SI, 500, 000 property is pending. 

It is not the first appearance Chaloner has made as an author, 
although it is the first time he has come out as a Napoleonic cru- 
sader in literature. In 19 07 he wrote forty-seven sonnets, explain- 
ing his ideas on hell and Bernard Shaw. A few months ago the 
war set his pen to itching, and he gave the Germans what he gave 
Shaw — only more so. 

As a scientist, too, Chaloner has made a deep impression upon 
himself. Not only is he the possessor of an "X-faculty" which 
enables him to suspend the law of gravitation, but pool balls speak 
to him in astrological terms. 

All this was for the cause, however, as Chaloner announces in 
his prologue to "Robbery Under Law." Presumably even his ap- 
parently sincere attempts to recover command of his fortune were 
strategic movements intended to embarrass^ the New York lunacy 
law, for he writes that he has "sacrificed the last eighteen years of 
my life" in the cause of lunacy reform. 

uommissiuiitji lu i^uiscx.^:/. 

Brooklyn, N. Y. Times, June 29, 1915. 

John Armstrong Chaloner, who escaped from Bloomingdale sev- 
eral years ago, has written a book to show that the insanity laws in 
this country are all wrong. Harry Kendall Thaw is of the same 

New York Evening Sun, June 29, 1915. 


John Armstrong Chaloner has published another volume proving 
he is sane. We would rather take the contention for granted than go 
into the book, but we suppose it contains a chart showing the Union 
marked off into black or white States, indicating where the cause has 
triumphed and where the light has not yet shone. 

Boston, Mass., Daily Globe, June 30, 1915. 

John Armstrong Chaloner has published a play "in order to serve 
as a sort of propaganda toward the cause of lunacy reforms, to which 
the writer has sacrificed the last 18 years of his life, come March 1^, 
1915." It is called "Robbery Under Law," and if it's as good as his 
"Who's Looney Now?" telegram, written to his brother, "Sheriff Bob" 
Chanler, when the latter's marital experiences with Mile. Cavalieri 
became known, there should be many appreciative readers. 


A Revealing Book About Chaloner 

John Armstrong Chaloner, the originator of the great 
question ."Who's Looney Now?" depicts in a book now to 
be obtained on the news stands, his experiences, his assign- 
ment to "Bloomingdale," his flight and his rehabilitation 
in the State of Virginia. He is anxious to spread abroad 
the information that the Lunacy Laws in the State are full 
of flaws and pernicious. 

Meriden, Conn., Journal March 17, 1909. 


Virginia Husband AVho AVas Beating Wife. 

Amelie Rives' Divorced Husband Took Woman's Part. 

Charlottesville, Va., March IT. — In a desperate struggle for the 
possession of a revolver between John Aniistrong Chaloner, once 
Chanler, of the influential New York family, and John Glllard, a 
powerful Englishman, at the Chaloner home near here Monday night, 
Gillard was killed by a shot from the weapon. 

Chaloner had entered his dining room to find Gillard beating :Mrs. 
Gillard- with a pair of tongs. The vroman's assailant was raining 
savage blows on her head, and would have had her life within a 
moment or two. 

A coroner's jury of substantial farmers ^.holly absolved Chaloner 
yesterday from all blame in the tragedy. The people of this section 
are unanimous in praising Chaloner for his courage in unhesitatingly 
entering an unequal combat to protect a woman, mother of seven chil- 
dren, and poor to destitution. The big family of children witnessed 
the death of their father. 

The tragedy adds one inore dramatic episode to Clialoner's strange 
career, in which is ilended with it romance, love, madness, intense 
hatred of kinsmen, and a prol)at)hj unparalleled t)attle in the courts 
of several States for a legal decree restoring to him. the rights of a 
sane person. The romance had its ending in a divorce "by Amelie 
Rives, the novelist, now living in Xew York, and wife of Prince Pierre 
Troiiljetzkoy. Russian artist, because of incompatibility of temper. 

Chaloner was never under even technical arrest for his part in 
the death of Gillard. The man, given to drink and violence toward 
his family, has been a pensioner of Chaloner, because of pity for the 
wife and helpless children. Only recently his benefactor had notified 
him that he would be given a mule, in order that he might earn more 
for his family. 

Merry Mills, Chaloner's Albemarle county estate, is just beyond 
Cobham, near here. Gillard's home is near Campbells, two miles 
distant from the Chaloner house. He came to this country from Aus- 
tralia two years ago; lived a short time at Richmond, moving thence 
to his late home. 

It w^as notorious in the community that he habitually maltreated 
his wife and children. Mrs. Gillard had appealed several times to 
Chaloner, who had talked with her husband about his drinking and 
his evil nature. 

The master of "Merry Mills" was entertaining a guest, Ernie G. 
Money, when Mrs. Gillard and her children, the oldest a boy of four- 
teen, were admitted to the dining room by a servant. They were 
announced, but Chaloner lingered a while upstairs with his guest. 
Meanwhile Gillard, in pursuit of his wife, forced his way into the 
house and into the dining room. 

Wild with drink and rage, he seized a pair of heavy tongs and 
began beating his wife over the head. Alarmed by the screams of the 
woman, her children and the servants, Chaloner and Money ran down 
to the dining room. 

Gillard was holding his wife by the hair, meanwhile striking her 
again and again. The woman was covered with blood. Chaloner, his 



guest, and a colored man servant grasped the madman, while Chaloner 
begged him to desist in his murderous attack. Gillard, powerful and 
frenzied, fought so desperately that the three men were all but ex- 
hausted and were hardly able to hold him. 

They finally pressed him to the floor, his arms and legs pinioned 
by their hands. The colored servant was sent for a rope with which 
to bind him. Chaloner had brought down a revolver, and as Money 
held the winded giant he stood by with the revolver, hoping to intimi- 
date him. 

Before the servant could return, Gillard broke from Money, sprang 
upon Chaloner and grasped the revolver. Intent upon murdering his 
wife, he tried to bring the weapon in line to fire it at the terrorized 
woman. As Chaloner and the maniac struggled for possession of the 
revolver, it discharged. Gillard fell dead, shot through the heart. 

No one, not even Chaloner, appears to know who pressed the 
trigger, so fierce and close was the struggle, but Mrs. Gillard says she 
is quite sure that her husband sent the missile through his own heart. 

The condition of the dining room which, v/ith the body, was left 
until yesterday just as it was when death ended the battle, in order 
that the authorities might see it, fully corroborated the testimony of 
the witnesses. The furniture was turned topsy turvy and was broken; 
the big tongs, bent from the blows, were covered with blood and 
matted hair. The woman's hat, parts of her clothing and her hair 
pins were scattered all about. 

Immediately after Gillard met death, Quintus L. Williams, magis- 
trate, was summoned, as was the coroner. The inquest was held yes- 
terday, Mrs. Gillard and her oldest son testifying for Chaloner. The 
woman show^ed many wounds from the murderous beating. 

She testified that she had been badly beaten on the preceding Satur- 
day and Sunday, and that her husband had declared he would kill her. 
He became violent again and, taking her broo.d with her, she had fled 
to "Merry Mills" to ask Mr. Chaloner's protection. She asserted that 
Mr. Chaloner and the others had tried to pacify her husband, had 
tried to avoid injuring him and had told him that they merely in- 
tended handing him over to the officers of the law. The boy corrobo- 
rated his mother. 

Magistrate Williams had declared at the outset that Chaloner had 
merely done that which any brave and humane man would have done, 
and his statement was justified by the jury of farmers which brought 
in a verdict of accidental death, exonerating Chaloner, Money and the 

tAbove is one of a mass of notices relative to the Gillard affair, 
which "Who's Looney Now?" ran across at haphazard recently. It is 
added as a graphic account of the said affair — the stock Associated 
Press story that was sent out at the time by their representative in 
Charlottesville, Albemarle county, Va. There are several glaring errors 
therein. The two most marked being that (a) Gillard was drunk; (b) 
that Gillard Avas pinioned on the floor by three men, and that "Who's 
Loonew Now?" "begged Gillard to desist" from murdering his (Gillard's> 
wife, (a) Gillard was a total abstainer, did not drink, smoke nor use^ 
tobacco in any form, (b) The battle occurred precisely as described in.' 
Act I, Scene I in Rohhery Under Law, except that Mr. Ernie Money — 
not the negro servant — not "Bosco" — as in the play — was the man who 
sprang upon and threw Gillard when "Who's Looney Now?" was tem-- 
porarily Tiors de com'bat. 


' "^t 

1 ^<f. 

7 - '^^ V^ 

A . N ^ '^^ ' * ' 

,V .o 




^^ v^ 



- '^%K 





V. v 


'^- * 3 N 


> '/>, 





^ ^ 4 * 


^ a'' 




^ -x^. 


4, : --^ V • 

■ ^■% ^^>^.^ Z"^'- ^S^lf ^ '^ 'W^^ ^^ -^-^ ^ 



"^ "^//Zv 

^. \V - "• " ^/, *"> 


* : -oo^ :/ '^-'- V* =^ ' ■'bo'* 


-^. ,< V 






* x' 


'^'^ '% .^^^ 


"^^ v^^ 


^\. "' x>^^ sS-., - 

^- -^ ^^ ^-■■■'- -^ ^^ ^^-'. ■ 







015 863 929 4